


anger management

by Magali_Dragon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anger Management, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humorish, Lawyer!Dany, Shameless Smut, Stress Relief, but vaguely, mysterious!Jon, tension at first sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29099328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: To cope with anger and stress management, Dany starts kickboxing at a local gym, where mysterious, attractive Jon happens to train too.  So of course, she doesn't like him, and of course, she must spar with him.  When a punch goes awry, it must be love.  But Dany's in for quite a surprise with who exactly Jon happens to be...**Unnecessary bonus chapter added 2/8/2021**
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 143
Kudos: 396





	1. anger management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany learns a new way to deal with her anger management issues and also happens to meet quite possibly the only other person in the world who has the same level of frustration as her. To her surprise, there might be a reason why....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm taking a break soon, but first I need to finish posting some of these immediate fics that happen when I am inspired by the most random of things. In this case, I started kickboxing at a local gym to deal with my OWN stress management during these insane times of pandemic, attempted government overthrow (in the US), etc. As I was working out, I got the idea for of course, a Jonerys meet cute and because I basically live in the 'enemies-to-lovers' or rather the 'I have tension with you and I do not know why but must have you' universe, thus a fic was born.
> 
> Thank you to @youwerenevermine of course for helping me with the pics for the moodboard! You're a lifesaver with cleaning up the images and figuring the layout!
> 
> Enjoy :P

* * *

Daenerys Targaryen was a literal fire-breathing dragon.

Well maybe not literal. She felt like one. Most of the time. _All_ of the time. They called her that, when she click-clacked down the marble and stone hallways in the King's Landing courthouse, the _Dragon_. If they were being affection, the _Silver Dragon_. One of the founding partners of Targaryen & Targaryen, the only law firm you could ever want for your legal needs.

She was their chief barrister, specializing primarily in a rather arcane area of Westerosi law pertaining to international affairs, but she was predominantly human rights law. Pro bono, she advocated for children as a guardian-at-law or defended juveniles in criminal court. Her brother Rhaegar was the only one you ever wanted for your corporate needs. Her brother Viserys, well, he wasn't part of the Targaryen & Targaryen, but he was brutal at the management of the family law firm. He hadn't practiced law, just had the degree.

No one messed with them, when they did, they got burned.

And maybe that was the problem, she discovered one day, when she'd practically lunged across the table to strangle Tyrion Lannister, who had screwed her over on a plea bargain for her client, a young Dothraki lad who had made some bad mistakes and was now going to go to prison for three fucking years until his eighteenth birthday and she was going to _burn_ Tyrion.

"Ms. Targaryen control yourself!" Judge Stannis Baratheon shouted. Even the corpse king, as they called him, couldn't muster a high enough volume to be heard over the cacophony of shouts as Missandei— her co-counsel—held her back and even her client was trying to stop her. She was seeing red, fire and blood, as Tyrion chuckled at his spot, not even moving.

"My, my Daenerys, someone has to learn to control her temper."

"Fuck you!" she spat at him.

Stannis banged the gavel, black robes sweeping back like smoke when he stood, gesturing with it towards her, glaring. "I will not hold this against your client Ms. Targaryen, but you will be fined for your behavior and if you carry on you will be in contempt."

She backed off, shaking her arms loose from Missandei, who murmured in her ear. "Fuck him over later, don't worry about it now, think of Rakharo."

Yes, Rakharo, of course, her client. She swallowed hard, smoothing her hand over her trim, tailored black pantsuit. "Apologies to the Court," she murmured, shooting another death-glare at Tyrion. She would have his balls bronzed for posterity and set on her desk when she was done with him. She clicked her teeth together, sucking air into her strained lungs. Several strands of silver hair fluttered free of her braided twist, dusting her cheek. She tucked them back, darting her gaze to Stannis, who had puckered his mouth into a sour frown. "I was just...taken aback by the Government's refusal to honor a perfectly good plea deal."

Stannis chuckled, leaning back. "You Targaryens and your fire. Get a control over those feelings Ms. Targaryen. You're doing nothing but making things worse for your client."

_Yes of course._ She sent an apologetic look to Rakharo, who shrugged, saying 'it doesn't matter.' She needed to get a handle of herself. Blocking Tyrion from her mind, she managed to work her way through the hearing, leaning to give Rakharo a hug before he was led back to the detention facility, murmuring she'd get him out soon.

Tyrion called after her, laughing. "You don't ride dragons anymore Daenerys, perhaps find another way to exercise your anger."

She scowled, wishing like all the seven hells she did have a dragon in that moment. Missandei kept a hand on her wrist, locking her close, lest she attack the dwarf and drop-kick him across the Narrow Sea to Essos, where he belonged, the two-bit scummy lawyer he was. "You're lucky you live in this century; I'd have burned you where you stood. I'll still do it."

"Threats? How charming."

"Fuck off." She stormed from the courtroom, Missandei hurrying to catch up. The rage against her arch-nemesis was nothing compared to the overall rage she sometimes felt just _because_. It was a very stressful life she had, commanding the firm, maintaining her status as the best lawyer in Westeros, not to mention all the clients whose lives she was impacting and ultimately saving, in many, many ways.

Plus she hadn't gotten laid in a long time, she thought darkly, wondering if that was the problem. Nah, couldn't be, it never affected her like this before and there had been some long spells. Men were dicks, she didn't trust them, they were good for one thing and even then, they weren't that good. So was her experience.

They burst out of the courtroom and down the massive stairs, the courthouse contained in a large complex that attached to the Red Keep, gleaming glass and chrome intermixed with the ancient red brick, stone, and marble of former residence of the King— or Queen— of Westeros. She took a moment to gaze to the highest spires, where now tourists got to take pictures pretending to fall off into the Blackwater Bay and somewhere inside the useless Parliament and even more useless Prime Minister Robert Baratheon allegedly "worked." She made a face at it, gave it the finger, and stalked down the stairs, her barrister's robes blowing off her shoulders.

Bunching them up, she stuffed them into the bag Missandei had waiting at her side, the two of them marching towards the parking lot. "You need a vacation," Missandei suggested.

"I need to get Rakharo out of jail."

"We can petition for his case to be returned to the juvenile court?"

Dany nodded, thinking that might be the best solution. They were treating the scared sixteen-year-old like a hardened criminal, all because he was present when his shitty brother decided to steal a car and Rakharo was the one who got behind the wheel. Now his brother was in the wind and Rakharo was taking the blame. "It's because he's Dothraki," she hissed between her clenched teeth, jaw ticking. "There's a hatred of anyone who is an 'other.'"

Missandei smirked. "Don't I know it."

"I'm sorry darling," she muttered, realizing her blunder. She looped her arm into her best friend's, patting her hand. Missandei had also faced the disgusting prejudice that existed within Westeros's boundaries. It was partly why she refused to move to Essos like Rhaegar had suggested they do, maybe establish a branch out of Pentos or Braavos. She wanted to take it down. The Westerosi didn't like the Valyrians much either.

"You know maybe you need to get a different routine going."

"I don't know how much I can change."

"Perhaps instead of morning yoga you switch it up."

Intrigued, she smirked up. "Like what?"

"Grey has this gym he's been going to, I've tagged along. It's really fun. Boxing."

"Boxing?" She wrinkled her nose. The idea of dancing around a bouncing platform with men screaming and salivating over scantily clad ladies with big mitts and bigger breasts bouncing did not appeal to her. "Missandei I'm shocked. Doesn't seem like your thing."

"Because it isn’t, it's kickboxing. They teach you the basics, but there's something really relaxing about kicking the shit out of a weighted bag and envisioning that it's Tyrion's head." She chuckled; eyebrow arched. "Or Varys."

The mere mention of that ballless bastard had her blood boiling again. Varys Bird, he of the wicked pen, darting around the courtroom writing stories for a rag newspaper. He always had it out for the Targaryens. It had made them minor celebrities in a way, but half of his stories were all half-truths, and the other half were just blatant lies. She liked the idea of beating up a bag and putting his face on it.

She shrugged. "What's Grey do there?"

"He does staff work, sparing with others using a stick, like he's some sort of ancient warrior." She rolled her eyes, chuckling about her boyfriend's new little hobby. "He's quite good. But the gym kind of has everything. Strict martial arts, MMA, kickboxing, traditional boxing, and there's even an instructor on the Faceless techniques."

The mysterious alleged assassins of Braavos, with their own self-defense and other defensive tactics. That was kind of appealing. Dany shrugged. "Well...if you think it might be good."

"You have to let that aggression out on something. Stannis might not let you go if you beat Tyrion to a pulp, as much as he'd like it himself."

"True." She envisioned Viserys perhaps getting a couple smacks. "Or my brother, maybe."

Missandei laughed. "I think the entire firm will line up for that."

"We can make it the next team-building activity."

"I'll text you the address."

Dany wasn't sure she'd find this as stress-relieving or as _fun_ as Missandei seemed to think it would be, but whatever. Couldn't hurt.

Maybe she'd meet a cute guy there.

* * *

"This place is a dive."

"Oh hush." Missandei peeled off her gray hoodie, revealing a matching purple sports bra and leggings with butterflies printed up the sides. Several of the men working out on the weights took a quick glance but whipped their heads away when Grey sent them his steely-eyed warning look. She giggled, kissing her boyfriend's cheek. "Tell Gendry we're here."

"Hmm." Grey walked off, hands in his hoodie pockets.

Dany wasn't sure this was such a good idea. Looked like the first location that convicts went to out of prison. It was clean, she'd give it that, and rather large, in an old warehouse. There were medals, photos, and assorted accolades on one wall for what she presumed were fighters that had trained there. Another had a huge stag and bull emblazoned over a rising fist with a hammer on another wall— Iron Bull Boxing Club stenciled underneath. An area for weights, an area with some treadmills, and another for stretching and band and ball exercises was off to one half of the gym. There were steps leading down to a series of mats where people were doing what she imagined was the MMA or Faceless techniques, including a slip of a girl with mousy brown hair who was beating the shit out of a guy twice her size with a buzz-cut and arms like cannons.

She scanned the space again; a boxing ring with two men going at it, another older man leaning on the ropes watching and calling out commands. Then there was where Missandei had gone, down the steps and to a corner with hanging punching bags. Missandei had removed her wraps— purple to match her outfit of course— teal gloves on the floor at her feet. "Where do I get those?" she asked, pointing.

"From me, lass."

Dany glanced over her shoulder, the older man from the boxing ring now in front of her, smiling kindly. He had small round glasses, a scruffy gray beard, and twinkling blue eyes. Made her think of Santa Claus. "And you are?" she demanded, offering her hand immediately.

"Davos Seaworth, one of the coaches. Young Gendry owns the place, but I make it worth coming here," he chuckled, nodding to the man who was getting pinned to the mats by the tiny girl. He tsked under his breath. "Ah, the lass has him again. He needs to stop trying. Just making an embarrassment of himself."

"I'm not here for that," Dany said, wanting to see if this would work. The rest of her day had gotten shittier, if possible. A motion denied for change of venue as she was defending a young woman on solicitation— the judge was a fucking client— plus there was a setback in the research for her case she was working out of Meereen. Fucking slavery still existing out there, she was defending a massive contingent of former slaves who were suing for reparations. The Mereeneese Masters were in court fighting it.

Now she wanted to punch some shit.

Missandei had already started warming up, dancing in place around a black bag, looking very much like the butterflies on her outfit. "She's new Davos, but she's a dragon."

"I can see that." The tank Dany had on over her sports bra had the three-headed symbol of her family, her firm's name on the back from their last all employee picnic. Davos smiled again, nodding for her. "Come on, let's get you set up. Wraps, gloves...I'll show you the ropes."

Out of the corner of her eye, walking towards a counter near the front, where gloves and wraps were stored, Dany saw one of the men from the ring watching her, wrapping up his hands. He had a scruffy black beard, black curls tugged in a sweaty knot on his head, and loose gray athletic shorts. He was barefoot, but one foot was taped. She scowled at him, wondering why he was staring at her. He was rather attractive in the brief moment she gave him, observing the low-hanging shorts on his narrow hips, the tapering in his waist, and yes, a set of abs you could was clothing on.

And then he turned.

_Fucking Rholl'r's flaming balls._

An ass should not look that good in loose shorts. No way, no how.

"Let me see your hand, right-handed, aye?"

Dany tore her gaze from the hot man with the buns of true steel and nodded absently. "Hmm."

Davos showed her how to wrap her hands and gave her the boxing gloves. "Come on, let's get started."

* * *

"Damn Dany."

The gloves were on the floor, kicked aside as she beat the shit out of the punching bag, dancing around it while Davos called out commands. Right, left, slip. Left, left, slip, right, right. Kick left, slip, right, kick right, left, slip, kick left.

Sweat drenched through her tank earlier, so she was down to her bra and her bright red yoga capris, feet bare, bouncing about the bag, Davos chuckling as he leaned against another bag, shouting out again. "You're a natural," he preened.

It felt so _good_.

Each punch and kick, she envisioned all the enemies she had. Varys, Tyrion, the Lannister firm in general, Stannis, the shity creepy fucker Walder Frey who squeezed her ass when he tried to get Rhaegar to sue to allow bigamy. Davos told her to knock it off, seeing 'people.' Said he knew it the second she started going to town on the bag.

"Channel your anger, but do not let it consume you," he counseled.

That was what a therapist told her once.

This was better than therapy, she thought, her muscles aching, sweat dripping down her neck and flushing her face. Silver braids fell out of the knotted tangle she'd had them in when she'd entered, and her chest strained, lungs desperate as she tried to breathe between each move. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

She opened her fist, using her palm to smack at the bag, like Davos had shown her when she'd clearly mastered the actual punch. It had been too annoying with the gloves. "Be careful," he warned, when she shook out a particularly stinging smack. He was dead serious, no longer smiling. "Don’t need you breaking a hand."

"I don't think she can, that bag is going to break from her." The girl with the brown hair from the mat had come to see what was going on. She cocked her head, chuckling. "Maybe you might like to learn Faceless."

"No thanks," Dany huffed, still focused on the punching bag. She kicked it hard, using the top of her foot, toes pointed expertly, her flame red toenail polish flashing against the black material. "This is better."

Missandei exchanged money with Grey out of the corner of her eye; she'd have to find out what that was about, but Grey seemed annoyed like he'd lost something, Missandei smug. Dany eventually paused, stilling the bag after a vicious hit, looking over at Davos, smiling wide. "Now what?"

Davos arched his brows. "What do you mean lass? This is your first session."

"I want to start sparring."

"No way," Missandei laughed. She eyed her, worried. "Dany, I don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't." She liked this. It was fun. Now she wanted to see what she could do against someone else.

Davos agreed. "Not yet lass. You keep coming back, learning the basics, we'll talk about getting you in a ring. Need to work on technique." He kissed his teeth. "How about Saturday?"

"Sounds good."

There was a soft chuckle from above. They all glanced up; startled, Dany saw the man from before. He had on workout sweats over his shorts, his body now hidden behind black material and hair wet from a shower. A gym bag slung crosswise over him. He also had on thick black round glasses.

_Nerd_ , Dany kind of wanted to say, but she squirmed slightly. They were pretty hot actually on this guy. "What?" she snapped.

He shrugged. "She'll be in the ring soon Davos."

"We'll see lad, we'll see."

The girl who had wanted to teach her the Faceless techniques pouted. "Well fine. NO one wants to learn Faceless."

"NO one wants to get the shit kicked out of them every day love," the big man with the buzzcut said to the tiny thing. He smiled warmly at her. "Gendry Waters, this is my place. Glad you like it. See you Saturday."

Dany eyed Missandei, who had wandered back over to her. She undid her wraps, as everyone dispersed, grinning. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"You coming back Saturday?"

Dany watched the hot guy with the best ass she'd ever seen walking out of the gym, accompanied by the tiny girl, the two of them talking and laughing together. She nodded, murmuring. "Fuck yes."

She needed to see that man again.

* * *

"Ready?"

"Ready," Dany said, jumping up and down in place, patting her fists together. She grinned at Davos. "So? Who am I kicking the shit out of?"

He sighed. "So much for teaching you to channel your anger, to control your emotions."

"Everyone always wants women to control their emotions, but men can get away with anything."

"I am not touching that one."

It was true. Not that her eldest brother had any emotions, but if Rhaegar got angry in court it was "passionate" and if she got angry in court it was "shrill." Although Dany did have to admit, spending every other day in Davos's gym for about an hour and a half was really helping with her anger, frustration, and general stress levels. She discovered she was sleeping better, eating better, and even Rhaegar commented on her "distinct calm" in the partner meeting that morning.

It was because she knew that tonight she'd be able to actually mess with someone else. She liked kickboxing. Missandei preferred to just stay punching the bag and then let Grey try to teach her some of the staff-work, but Dany was eager to try out her moves with someone else. It was the competitive streak inside of her, coming from growing up with one brother as her sort-of father and the other as an annoying twit who pulled on her braids and terrorized her. She always had to outshine them.

Now she wanted to outshine this. She had mastered the punching bag, now she wanted to try with someone else. Even if it wasn't quite 'boxing.' Davos said as much as she thought she wanted to truly 'box', there was no way he was going to risk it. "I'm not delicate!" she'd shouted.

"Oh I know you aren’t; I'm scared for the men."

Today, she'd carved out exactly ninety minutes to get through this before she had to be back at work to go over briefs and prepare her opening statement for Rakharo's new trial the following day. She'd managed to get it reverted back to juvenile court, which infuriated Tyrion, but it made her day. She'd be before the juvenile court judge, all of whom she knew, and they were mostly softies who believed in second chances, as they should. Plus, the juvenile prosecutors were usually fresh out of law school and she could walk all over them.

Missandei was still waiting on their source at the courthouse to tell them who the judge would be. Dany hoped it was Brienne Tarth. They were going up against Edd Tollet as the prosecutor and as a former juvie himself, he tended to always give benefit of the doubt. It would be Rakharo's day in court and she was looking forward to winning and getting him free. Then straight into a relative's home and back to school, learning from his mistakes.

She climbed up into the ring, bouncing around in place, liking the feel of it. It was fun. "You have a trampoline? I could do this all day," she commented, hopping around.

"I’m sure the lads would like that."

Dany glanced at some young rugby players from the high school who were doing weight training, their mouths on the floor as she jumped. She glanced at her chest; she didn't have a huge one, but it wasn’t bad. The sports bra was keeping her in place, but boys, ugh. She rolled her eyes, knocking fists together. "Okay, get in here old man."

"I have to help Gendry; he's got a bunch of new kids coming in for the session of Faceless training."

"We're teaching children how to move like assassins? That sounds dangerous."

Davos's eyebrows lifted, agreeing. "Don't I know it. He never should have recruited at the playground, tons of parents want their kids to be involved, but I don't know what they think." He smirked. "You'll be training with one of my favorites today. Jonny boy!"

Dany wondered who Jonny was, she didn't recognize the name. She glanced over and saw movement from the back office, shocked at the sight of the hot man she'd taken to calling 'White Wolf' because she noticed that there was a white wolf on his black boxing gloves and he sometimes wore a black t-shirt with a white wolf head on the front, no other insignia. Missandei wasn't giving up info if she knew him, Grey was silent as ever, and most of the time he wasn't in the gym at the same time as her. When he was, he was busy and so was she, their paths never crossing.

He was kind of mythical, she'd decided, preferring to look at him from afar. He might ruin the illusion if she heard him speak more or learned that he was a pig like her previous two serious boyfriends.

"Jonny?" she echoed.

"Just Jon," he said, accent rough. It was like Arya's, Gendry's girlfriend, who was from the North. He climbed into the ring. He wore a t-shirt over black sweats, feet bare, and his hands were bare too.

"We bare knuckling it?" she asked. That seemed a little crazy.

"Don't do that stuff here, this isn't the 1800s."

Jon picked up two pads from the corner, slipping them over his hands. He held them up, smirking. "Let's see how you do with someone moving your target."

"What?"

"Gotta' walk before you can run, lass."

She wrinkled her nose. _Fine_. She shrugged, rolling her head on her neck. Today's outfit was an all-red ensemble, her braids hanging down her back from their elaborate up-do at her crown. "Let's do this then."

Jon smiled; he had a nice smile; she'd give him that too. It was entirely unfair how attractive he was. _Probably has an empty skull, all the brains knocked out from boxing_ , she figured. She noted that he had a couple scars on his face; he had some more on his chest too, when she caught him without a shirt which was rare. He also had a tattoo along his shoulder and onto his chest. More wolves and what she thought might have been red leaves of some sort. There was a tattoo on his inner wrist, which she caught sight of now, standing close to him.

_Duty_

She darted her gaze to his other wrist. There was another word there. _Love_ She nodded to them. "Your fists are named love and duty?"

"Something like that." He smiled again, flash of white against his dark beard. His curls were half-back from his face in a knot. He also had gray eyes. They looked practically black in the dim light around them. An air conditioner vent blasted down on them, sending a chill through Dany's spine.

Or perhaps it was the wafting scent of spearmint, faintest cigarette ash, and... _woodsy pine?_ She wasn't sure, coming from the man she now stood about a foot in front of. He was built, but not obscenely so, not like her ex-boyfriend Drogo, who spent more time preening before the mirror inspecting his muscles than using them. Her lips twitched, lifting her fists. "What do you got White Wolf?"

Davos heard that, whistling low under his breath. "My, my Jonny, she truly has your number."

Just Jon smirked, holding up the pads, squaring off. "Let's go Dragon Queen."

She flung out her fist, connecting so hard with his right pad that he stepped back, eyes widening, surprised. She grinned.

"Dracarys."

* * *

Somehow, they had an audience.

She wasn't even supposed to be fighting Just Jon, but he'd been switching the pads off and on, the individual ones on his hands and then another bigger one, heavier, so she could kick it. He shouted commands at her and she responded, finding it more challenging to keep on her feet, keep her balance and her strength going as he moved back and forth, in circles and around again, tossing his hands out so she could punch and kick them.

"That's all?" he taunted, after she winced, shaking out her left fist during a particularly hard punch. He laughed, low and deep. "That was nothing."

Smoke furled out of her nostrils, the dragon rising, wings outstretched. "Maybe drop the block," she grunted, spinning and roundhouse kicking, knocking him back a little. She charged forward, doing a quick jab and strike.

"Head down."

"It is down!"

"You're off balance, you're going to fall."

"No I'm not!" She hated how he was teasing her here and there. Dragon Queen, little dragon, asking if she was sure she wanted to fight with the big boys, that sort of thing. It did what he wanted, if what he wanted was to get her riled up. She was coming to the end of her time that day, focusing on doing what Davos said. Challenge her anger, find her inner peace, all that stuff. It really helped, oddly, to think of peace while she was throwing fists and feet.

Missandei and Grey were leaning against the wall; she was sure she saw more money exchange between them. There was Arya and Gendry watching now, a few others, including a woman she was pretty sure was one of the clerks in the juvenile court, Gilly Tarly. Which was a bit weird, honestly.

Just Jon cocked his head, that annoying little smirking smile on his fine, pouty lips. He arched his dark brows. "Maybe you don't have it, huh? Maybe you're just not giving me all you got?"

That did it.

She wasn't sure what it was, if it was the teasing, the annoyance she had, the pent-up frustration just in general, or maybe it was because he was so bloody attractive, she roared and lunged, slinging her fist. Except she missed, in her haste, allowing her anger to get away from herself— like Davos warned she needed to prevent— her knuckles slipping by the edge of the pad, right between his lifted hands, and colliding with the edge of his cheekbone and side of his nose.

"Fuck!" she screeched, as Jon let out a surprised cry, stumbling backwards and grabbing at his nose, blood spurting out and down his chin. She covered her mouth in horror, Davos yelping and jumping up into the ring. She was _mortified_. "Oh my gods, I am _so fucking sorry!_ "

Jon gave her a strange look, but he was _smiling_.

Through the blood that was now dripping out of his nose and making her a bit queasy to see, Davos handing him a clean towel to staunch it. In the corner of her eye, more money passed between not just Grey to Missandei, but from Gendry to Arya. She would really need to find out what that was about, but her attention was focused on Jon, hurrying towards him to see if she could help.

She kept apologizing— a rare feat someone should probably get on camera— stumbling over her words. "Fuck I'm...I mean...I didn't...I'm so sorry! Is it bad? I slipped! I didn't mean to!"

Davos shot her an amused, frustrated look. "I told you to control your anger."

Stuffing her face into her hands, she groaned. "Jon I'm sorry!" It was the first time she'd referred to him by his name, her Valyrian accent placing more emphasis on the 'o', drawing it out from one syllable. _Jooon_. He was still smirking, even though she could tell he was in pain, wincing when he hopped off the boxing ring and onto solid ground.

She scrambled out, ripping her wraps off. One of them had blood on it from when she'd cracked into his nose. "Can I do anything? Let me take you to the ER."

"I got it, you clean up," Davos said. He dismissed her so effectively she ducked her head, feeling abashed.

A door opened in the back, a gigantic man with a crazy mane of red hair and beard, wild blue eyes darting around, entered. He boomed. "Where's Crow going?"

"Dany broke his nose!" Arya cheered gleefully.

"I did not!" _But I did._ Missandei came over to assure her, wrapping her hoodie around her shoulders. She was shivering, adrenaline wearing off, along with the chill of sweat on her skin.

The wild man roared. "Finally! Someone broke that little fuck! He deserved it. Who is this Dany? I need to buy him a drink!"

Everyone stared at her and she feebly lifted her hand. "I'm Dany," she murmured.

The laughter from the wild red man followed her out of the gym, doing nothing to make her feel better about _my little preening pecker finally getting beat by a girl._. She ignored Missandei saying she shouldn't drive, she was still shaking, and shook her head, demanding to know where the closest urgent care happened to be.

* * *

"Look Davos, it's my attacker."

Dany leaped from the hard plastic chair she'd been sitting in for the last two hours, skimming through outdated magazines and watching the comings and goings of the urgent care clientele. She covered her mouth with her hands again, startled at how _bad_ it looked. She wasn't sure how badly she'd connected with him, but _seven hells_.

After a couple hours, not only was his formerly straight aquiline nose swollen, but it was black and blue, the bruise stretching outward to shadow around his left eye socket. She could see on the other side the reaction from the body's response to healing the break at the bridge of his nose was starting to bruise along to under his right eye. He'd likely look like a racoon in the morning.

A white bandage braced the top of his nose and he held an ice pack in his hand, the other loose around his hoodie. There was dried blood on his t-shirt. She winced again— she had no idea noses could bleed so much. "I'm so sorry," she began again, but Jon cut her off.

"Not my first bloody nose, won't be my last."

Davos smirked. "I sure hope it is." He looked between them, clearing his throat and glancing at his watch. Dany wasn't even sure it was working. "You know, I told Marya I'd be home an hour ago, blast these doctors, living in their own time zone. Lad, you want me to take you home?"

Dany met Jon's eyes— maybe it was the pale sickly pallor in his skin or the dark bruising— they were abnormally bright, the gray reflecting back the overhead fluorescents like a strange murky reflecting pool. One she would happily walk right into and drown in. She watched the wide black pupils dilate further, turning them stormy. He shook his head imperceptibly. "No Davos, Dany drove all this way...you should get back to Marya."

She nodded eagerly. "I'll take you home, it's the least I can do for well..."

"Breaking my nose?" he offered.

"It broke?" she cried.

He smiled, grim. "Aye, hairline fracture at the ridge, may need surgery to correct when it heals."

"Oh fuck."

Davos was already to the front door. "See you around Jon, remember what the doctor said, no strenuous activity."

"Hmm."

Dany waited while Jon checked out at the desk, trying to fork over her credit card to pay his insurance copay, but he wouldn't hear of it. She thought she recognized his insurance card, slipping back into his wallet. It looked a lot like ones that belonged to the Westerosi court system, but she couldn't be sure. She led him out, waiting for him to drop his hoodie over his head, wincing. "Let me." She held open the neck of it and the hood, so it wouldn't touch his sensitive nose as it fell down over his shoulders.

He grunted thanks, tugging it over his arms. He gestured to her. "After you, Your Grace."

She smirked. "The proper honorific."

"For a queen such as yourself? Of course."

At her car— a sleek crimson low-slung racecar of a vehicle— he stopped, glancing over the top of it. She cocked her head, innocent. "I like fast things."

He licked his lips, murmuring low. "I bet you do."

Dany’s eyes widened, her heart beating faster at the promise in his words. She swallowed hard. She was not used to being challenged like this. He was definitely an interesting character, this White Wolf, Just Jon. She didn’t even know his last name. She ducked into the driver's side, waiting for him to buckle up before she punched the ignition. "Where to?"

"Just off Street of Steel."

_Fancy_ , she thought, thinking of the old stone terrace homes that lined the streets over in that area. It was a very upscale neighborhood of King's Landing. She didn't live there of course; she lived in a free-standing black stone manor that people affectionately referred to as "Dragonstone", which was also the name of the island where her family had made its name and its money. A literal castle sat there, one she frequented when she needed to get away for the weekend or a quick trip out of stuffy King's Landing.

Unfortunately for her, Dragonstone Manor also housed Rhaegar and Viserys. Not that they noticed each other. It was large enough and they kept such odd hours, she rarely saw her brothers at home, more often at the office. She glanced sideways at Jon. "So you have a house there? Do you live there with your..."

"I live alone."

_Well that was a good development._ Although she'd never considered the possibility that he had a girlfriend or wife. He wore no ring. She cleared her throat, eyebrow arching. "And you do..."

"Well not really alone," he continued, either not hearing her not-so-subtle question about his career choices or maybe he didn't want to answer. It was probably for the best, she thought, it might make this entire _thing_ easier. He smirked sideways, a low chuckle in the back of his throat, shrugging. "I have a dog. His name is Ghost."

Her chest deflated, relieved. "What kind?"

The drive from the urgent care to the Street of Steel, where he then directed her along a couple of narrow streets towards his house, they spent in casual chit-chat about his dog Ghost, who was a white fluffy "fucking monster" according to Jon, with a sweet temperament who made no noise, hence his name. She interspersed it with stories of her dragons, her three cats she'd rescued from a gutter in Pentos a few years before. The bloody beasts she'd named after her current boyfriend at the time because she was a glutton for punishment and her brothers. "Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal," she recited to him.

"And you kept the name of your ex?"

"it suits him actually. He's gigantic and an ornery shit." She laughed. "Oddly enough, he's the one closest to me, most protective."

"I would never have kept the name of a pet after my ex." He rolled his eyes. "Then again, it would have been a nasty little red mop of an animal I suppose."

They steered clear of anything specific. Last names— although she was sure he knew hers by now— career choices and stuck to simple things like the animals and why she'd picked up kickboxing. "Stress relief," she said. She shrugged. "Anger management."

"Right here." Jon pointed to an open space in front of one of the terrace homes, with a navy front door and no adornments on the window grates or the iron gate and staircase railings. She appreciated that. Too many people overdid their homes in an effort to look important or 'happy.' She climbed out of her car, assuming that she had parked in his empty space, his car no doubt back at the gym. He walked up the stairs, fishing in his pocket for keys. At the top of the steps, he glanced back over his shoulder, eyebrows lifting, amused. "You coming or what?"

Quite a double entendre, she thought, slamming her door closed and waltzing around the front of her car, putting an extra sashay into her hips; she smiled slowly, pleased that he noticed, his tongue darting to wet his lips again. At the top of the stairs, when he pushed open the front door, she stepped into the foyer first, purring up at him. "I hope I'll be coming soon."

That did it.

Barely over the threshold, she fell back against his chest, gasping at the strong arm that hooked around her waist, palm flat on her stomach, pushing up under her hooded jacket. She groaned, spinning in his arms, immediately looping her wrists together behind his neck, her mouth crashing against his, at the same time he knocked her back against a wall of some sort behind her.

Divine. That was the first word that popped into her head. He was a divine kisser. Lips full, insistent, and confident. He had her pinned, hands on her hips, pushing up her tank, his fingers rough on her soft skin, dragging up and creating a path of fire in their wake. She opened her mouth under his, groaning, demanding. His tongue pierced between her lips, sweeping across her palate, to tangle with hers. He devoured her and she did the same to him.

She was careful of his nose, keeping her face pulled back slightly, when all she wanted was to smash herself against him, so she was practically _inside_ of him. He hissed in slightly pain when she hit her nose to his cheek. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“S’okay,” he got out, breaking from the kiss to slither his tongue down her jaw, kissing her pulse, and finding the spot near the notch on her clavicle that sent her toes curling and a jolt of heat straight to her cunt. His hands were now on her breasts, squeezing and finding her nipples, which were practically piercing right through her spandex bra.

Against her hip, she felt him, and she wanted more. Her hands wandered, underneath his workout pants’ elastic band, fingers scratching at the front of his briefs, delighting in his strangled gasp, his lips tearing from her skin when she felt him for the first time, a hot and heavy cock, one she couldn’t wait to get inside of her. She pressed her breasts to his chest, whispering. “Get your clothes off.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. They got his hoodie off and then his t-shirt, and her hands spread over his beautiful chest, pale and glowing in the light from the tall narrow windows next to the front door. She wanted to inspect his tattoo, to kiss his scars, and she did, tracing her tongue on them, the wall behind her disappearing as he tugged her towards the stairs.

Until he stopped, tripping slightly, and she gasped. “Oh!” She was taken aback by a wet feeling against her bare leg. She jerked back, looking down, eyes adjusting to the dim light in the foyer. There was a massive white shape moving between them, a dust brush-like tail sweeping in the air. She laughed. "Is this Ghost?"

"Ghost," Jon chided, scratching his ears. He flicked on a lamp in the hall, leaving her to stand nervously in the front hall, gazing around curiously at his place while he dealt with the dog. Ghost— sweet boy that he seemed to be— gazed at her with a cocked head, his eyes a dark red, and pink tongue happily lolling out. He licked her hand once more until the back door opening sent him skittering on the hardwood, loping to no doubt use the facilities.

She stepped into a room off the entryway, noting it as a formal dining room. Stairs led up straight from the entry, but there was another set here that curved downward. An archway showed a formal dining room, which she bet connected to the kitchen. Popping out, she went down the hall and sure enough, found herself in a huge kitchen, opening into a sitting area that served as the main living room, with a huge plush gray couch covered in dog hair, an inflatable raft-like dog bed next to a fireplace, and a flatscreen television above the mantle. There were stacks of accordion files, manila folders, and to her shock— law books.

"Are you a..." she was about to ask 'lawyer', when he emerged from a study that must have faced the street, accessed from the living room, and closed the door before she could peek further; all she managed to see before he closed it off was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase with more red and gold books she knew full well were criminal code law books.

Jon smiled, shaking his head, saying nothing, but came to her again, reaching to cup her face in his palms. He lowered his lips to hers once more, kissing softly, murmuring. "No questions, ruins it for now."

"Hmm," she murmured, agreeing. She pulled at the bottom of her tank and he helped her, tossing it onto the floor as she walked him backwards to the stairs. Everything was muddled, her vision swam with red dots in darkness, toes curling in her sneakers as he kissed her, her thighs tightening against the promising tingling sensation already forming there, as her cunt knew it would be filled soon enough. By what was, she judged from her initial investigation, his impressive cock. She gasped for air, a strangled moan catching when he brushed his thumbs roughly over her nipples, stiff against the spandex sports bra. "What about Ghost?" she managed to get out.

He shook his head, whispering. "Doggy door...I opened it for him."

"Fuck thank the gods."

They tripped their way down the hall, shedding sneakers and outerwear, breaking kisses and touching to bend down to yank at socks and shoes, before she giggled, running up the stairs before him, the hardwood creaking loudly with their feet pounding up to the second floor. He took direction, yanking her between two double doors into his bedroom, which she managed to see in the dying sunlight streaming through windows along the back wall. The room was painted in shades of gray, the space rather large, mostly taken up with a huge bed.

He spun her around to face him, walking her backwards to the bed. It hit the back of her knees and she let go, falling back onto her elbows, watching him through hooded eyes. He leaned forward, grabbing her ankle and she grinned, offering the other. He pulled at the spandex capris she wore, yanking them off her legs, the fabric peeling off and to a puddle on the floor. “Your turn,” she husked, launching forward, even when he tried to get to the black thong she continued to wear.

“Not yet,” he rumbled. He grinned, wolfish, dangerous. Her ankles in his hands, he pulled again, catching her off guard and waiting for her to fall back, bouncing on the mattress. He kissed her calf, murmuring. “There’s something I wanted to do since I met you.”

He was still in his shorts and briefs, pissing her off royally. “I want to fuck you,” Dany complained.

“And I want to fuck you too, but sometimes you need to remember patience.” He sounded like he was lecturing someone, but for some reason it was so hot and turned her on in a way that she would need to explore at a later date.

Instead of complaining, she grumbled. She reclined backwards, her head hitting the stacked pillows behind her. She traced her fingers along his jaw, scratching at it and into his hair as he kissed up her bare thigh, prowling up her body. She watched carefully, stomach clenching in anticipation. The kissing alone had her wet, her thong uncomfortably sticking to her cunt. He got to where she wanted him most, her fingers light in his curls, and legs slung over his shoulders. She managed a choked gasp, eyes flying open at the swipe of his tongue on her lace covered mound.

He curled his fingers into the string at her hip, tearing them in one move. His hand, warm and wide, splayed over her flat belly, and she watched, fascinated, when he locked his eyes on her, his tongue pressing flat over her clit, swollen and straining. The moment he touched it, she cried out, jerking forward.

And into his nose.

“Fuck!” he screamed, falling backwards and clutching his face.

She screamed too, terrified she’d hurt him. “Oh Jon!” she shouted. She scrambled over him, straddling his waist and trying to pry his hands from his face. He was groaning, his eyes watering. She cringed, brushing her fingers over his cheeks. “Jon I’m so sorry, oh…” She kissed him, comforting, light and sweet, while her hands pressed to his chest, moving farther south, doing anything to pleasure him and take away the pain.

He mumbled into her mouth, breaking the kiss. “That feels good,” he said weakly.

“This feels good? Yeah?” She kissed him again and he nodded, her fingers now at his waistband again, dipping in to wrap around the base of his cock. She squeezed gently, his hips bucking up into her hand, another groan swallowed with her kisses. She continued to whisper, assuring him. “Does this feel good?” Her fist, wrapped around the thick base, twisted up slightly, while her other hand reached further to scratch her fingers across his tones.

He hissed sharply, nodding. “Aye, yes…fuck.”

“Lie back,” she ordered, taking her hands out of his pants so he could move around and take up her position. She pulled the pillows from behind him, giving him only one so he could keep his nose somewhat elevated. An idea formed, something she hoped would be the best of both words for them both.

It seemed he also realized her intentions and even when she tugged off his briefs and shorts, giving her, her first look at his beautiful cock, long and heavy, resting swollen against his belly, he shook his head. He pointed to his face, voice rasping: “Up here.”

She giggled, climbing up his body, but making sure to press a kiss to the head of his cock, her tongue swirling quickly over the tip and around the shaft as she slipped her hands free of him. “You sure about that?” she teased; her breath warm on his heated skin.

He barely nodded, but she could see the quick indecision flicker over his face. “Aye. Get up here.”

Dany pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses up his chest, teeth scraping at each of his nipples, his hands reaching to palm her arse, assisting her as she moved farther and farther up his body, until she got to his mouth and kissed him again. He didn’t linger, urging her to sit up, which she did, carefully slinging her legs up, her knees on either side of his head, feet resting back over his shoulders. She reached a hand to the iron headboard, gripping tight.

Jon might as well have told her to hold on tight. Her free hand flew to his head, gripping and pushing his head, panting cries as his tongue began to slither back along her cunt. He was merciless, long licks and then stiffening the tip, spearing into her channel before he traced her clit again.

“Yes, yes,” she panted, head falling back. She had never felt like this before; usually she couldn’t come like this, but she knew she’d have no trouble with Jon. He worked her over nicely, giving her exactly what she craved, his mouth moving over her easily. His fingers curled around her thigh, holding her in place with one hand, while his other slipped under her hips, his fingers joining in with his tongue.

He started with one finger, slipping along her slick folds, gathering wetness and spreading it around her clit, tapping in tandem with his tongue. The combination of his thick fingers inside of her and his unyielding, torturous mouth, it was enough to send her over. She arched up, needing even more, and knew she would come hard. And very, very fast, she thought briefly, her breasts straining up, chest rising and falling with her panting cries.

She glanced downward, capturing his gaze, his mouth moving faster as he saw what he was doing to her. It was turning him on too, she knew, feeling his body tensing beneath hers. “Jon,” she cried. She was absolutely out of control, her head falling backwards, eyes slamming shut, the pleasure hitting her in a sudden wave, crashing straight into her just when she thought it was beginning to rise inside. It was there, hitting her again and again, shattering her into pieces and battering her again.

And then he was sucking on her clit, before he blew gently over it and she was coming _again_. She released a high-pitched sound, something akin to a scream or a whine or some sort of otherworldly cry to the heavens, her body out of control and rolling against him. She didn’t even realize what she was doing until she was flying.

Literally flying, she’d thrusted her hips straight into his nose again.

“Oh god,” she sobbed, her hand going down to cover her cunt, pressing into it to stave off the intense waves still rolling through her, almost painful, and clenched her legs together while she tried to get to Jon, who was smacking his hand on the pillow, in obvious pain. “Jon fuck!”

He winced, shaking his head briefly. “Fine,” he gasped. “It’s fine.”

Limp-armed, legs feeling like jelly, she tossed her head on the mattress, panting. “No, no it’s not. Fuck.”

“Get back here.”

“Jon we can’t! Your nose!” _And it’s all my fault._ She sprang up, slinging her legs over his hips, her hands on his shoulders. The moonlight was bright, coming in through the window to shine off his pearly skin, the tattoo of the wolf on his shoulder lit up, snarling up at her. She kissed the image on his skin, pecking tiny, nipping kisses up his corded neck muscles and over his chin, damp from her cunt. “Let me take care of you now.”

When he was back against the pillows, she met his gaze, never breaking. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and watched her, his fingers idly moving through her hair, his other hand resting on his abdomen. She pressed her hands to his lower abdomen, sliding down over him to crouch on her knees between his legs. Never breaking eye-contact, she descended and this time she took his cock into her mouth, lazily licking up the underside, his entire body seizing underneath her. “Fuck,” he hissed. He arched his neck, groaning. “Fucking seven hells Dany.”

She remembered how he’d responded earlier, her fist wrapped around him and she did so again, alternating licks and twists of her fingers, his hand bunching in her hair, pressing her harder to his cock, which she gladly took deeper into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. She normally _despised_ going down on a guy. She found it distasteful, demeaning, and maybe a bit selfish of her, but it had never been an enjoyable experience for her and usually she didn’t get much in return.

With Jon? _Fuck, he feels so good_ , she thought. She didn’t think it was just the multiple orgasm he’d given her a moment before either. She bobbed her head, fingers following her mouth, his cock harder than it had been, slick and warm underneath her ministrations. He was babbling now, words she barely caught between gasps, groans, and sighs of her name. He had his hand in her hair, lost there, the other trying to reach for her hand.

She gave it to him, their fingers tangling together. She rose up slightly, her nipples dragging at his thighs, which only served to elicit a deeper groan from him. His hips thrusted up against her, and she rolled her eyes up again, smiling around his cock. He liked when she did certain things, which she filed away for future— _future?_ — reference. “Dany, I can’t,” he begged, shaking his head and groaning, arching up into her again. “Fuck, get up here.”

Cock free of her mouth, she gasped for breath, hand on his hip. “You sure?” She wanted to make him come, like he had with her.

He sat up and she moved towards him, careful this time when he angled his head in a way so as not to bump his nose. He hissed at the taste of himself on her lips, just as she did the same with her salty sweetness on his tongue. He gripped her hips, lifting her over his hips and she obliged, straddling him. She levered herself up, sliding her soaking cunt along his length.

They broke their kiss and together, watched when she took him in her hand, flicking her thumb over his head. He continued to watch her, while she watched his face, aligning him with her entrance, teasingly tapping the head of his cock at her clit. Her mouth fell open, silently crying out, until she ceased the torture—for now—slipping him by her swollen lips, pushing him into her, bit by bit.

It was delicious pain, she thought, as he was bigger than she’d thought, and it had been awhile. His entire body was rippling from holding back, she realized, and she was shaking too. She sank farther and farther, stretching around him, a hand on his shoulder, the other pushing onto his chest. When she was flush against him, she waited, adjusting and allowing him a moment too.

“Dany,” he whispered. She darted her eyes up to his. He was desperate, just like her. He grabbed her hips, rocking up into her. He groaned her name again. It sounded like a prayer, she thought, rising up slowly, dragging over him again, her inner muscles squeezing, teasing. She was so wet it was much easier when she pushed back down onto him, riding him.

It began nice and slow, her hips rolling to his, watching in fascination where they joined, his cock disappearing into her with every thrust and lift. She began to move faster, as did he, his hips lifting off the bed, his fingers pressing indentations into her hips. She grabbed his hand in hers, pressing harder and holding him against her as she used her other for leverage, allowing her to lift farther off him and slam down harder, pace increasing.

Her braids were falling apart, her hair sticking to the back of her neck, skin dampening with sweat, her cries rising and mingling with his. The tension built, the coil tightening, threating to break. It tingled throughout her body, through her spine, her arms and legs, and down into her cunt. “Jon,” she moaned. “Please.”

“Fuck, Dany,” he moaned in response. His hand slipped from her hip, grabbing her arse, pulling her forcefully against him. She was grinding now, her clit on his pelvic bone, rubbing harder and harder as they became erratic, both of them focused now on the ever-closer release. He was tensing beneath her, his eyes screwed up, his mouth open, so close, just like her.

Her breasts bounced on her chest and she looked down suddenly at a sucking feeling, seeing his lips closing around one of her nipples. She cupped his head with her hand, the other still tangled with his against her hip. “Yes, fuck, yes,” she whimpered. He let go to kiss her, their tongues battling, teeth clashing. “I’m coming,” she managed to get out, when it was almost there, the coil about to release. “Jon.”

His eyes were positively black now. He pushed his fingers between them, finding her clit just as she slammed down again on him, his knees up behind her, feet flat to give him more leverage as he pushed up again into her. It was all she needed, the coil breaking, springing so forcefully she pulled away so she wouldn’t smack into his broken nose again. Her cunt fluttered around him, clenching and trapping him, and he broke underneath her then.

Both of their releases spurred the other, the two of them falling apart in each other’s arms, and providing the other support as they fell. He spilled into her, flooding hot and deep, and it hit her just how _serious_ this felt for what she initially thought of as just releasing the ever-building tension between the two of them. Complete strangers who wanted to remain that way.

_So why did it seem like the earth just moved?_

It appeared that he felt the same, his face slack, his eyes wide, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch his breath. It felt wonderful, his arms around her, bracing her against him. She stared at him, rather lost in his deep, soulful eyes. He smiled briefly, lips cracking open to say something. _No, no speaking_ , she directed silently, shaking her head and kissing him gently.

They fell back onto the mattress, her body slipping off him, leg slung across his thigh, arm over his belly. She was boneless, exhausted, and could sleep for days. “Wow,” she mumbled into his shoulder. She pressed an idle kiss there.

His fingers aimlessly dragged over her side, tweaking her nipple. “Aye,” he agreed.

They glanced at each other again, before giggling. “How’s your nose?” she asked. She sat up on her elbow, lightly touching her fingertip to the bandage. She cringed. “I’m so sorry I hit you. _Twice_.”

“It was worth it.”

“Do you have aspirin?”

“Doc gave me some painkillers, but I don’t know about you, but…” He trailed off, and pointedly glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed. He jerked a thumb towards it. “It’s not even near close to midnight and well…” He licked his lips, cockily lifting his brow. “I was hoping I’d at least get you a couple more times tonight.”

Dany grinned, climbing off the bed, and reached for his hands, pulling him with her. “Sounds like a plan, but first, let’s clean up your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“The dried blood isn’t doing it for me.”

Now it was his turn to cringe, lightly touching the side of his nose. “But the racoon look? You like that?”

“I’ll have to, I mean I did do it to you.”

“Aye, you did, and you owe me.”

Dany waited for the shower to get hot, the spray crashing down on them when she pushed him into the large space, barely taking the time to admire the modern, spa-like décor in the bathroom before she fell to her knees, pushing him against the wall. “And I certainly will.”

By the time the sun was creeping up on the horizon, Dany didn’t know what to think of the man who was asleep beside her. She kissed his tattoo, lifting his hand and pressing another kiss to the ‘Love’ script on his inner wrist, wondering again what it meant. She had to get going, get cleaned up before court.

As she hurriedly gathered her things, sneaking out, she took a long look at him, and smiled, his head propped on a few pillows, fresh bandage on his nose, and an ice pack on the nightstand—she’d hit him again during another vigorous round before they decided to pack it in and get some sleep.

“See you soon,” she whispered, slipping out of the room and downstairs, picking up her remaining clothing.

Leaving her number, she escaped out the front door with a finger wave to Ghost, who shot her a dirty look—likely for taking his human from him—before he escaped up the stairs and into the bedroom.

She chuckled and left, wondering once more as she caught sight of a briefcase on the bench by the door, including a badge for the Westerosi Judicial Complex, just who exactly her sparring partner happened to be.

* * *

"You don't look like you got a lot of sleep."

Rhaegar was of course one to notice. Dany sipped her coffee, snorting at her brother. She scowled, spying Missandei over his shoulder, coming towards her with Rakharo, who had been released into his grandmother's custody earlier that month, a tracking monitor on his ankle. She nodded to him from the end of the hallway, reverting her attention to Rhaegar, who was adjusting his perfectly knotted tie in his reflection from a plaque that was actually thanking him for the generous donation to refurbish the mural on the wall of Queen Alysanne and all her children.

Fitting for the juvenile court, Dany thought, needing more coffee. She was sore in all the very best places, not just from boxing but well, she tried not to flush. She felt _wonderful._ Boxing and then fucking the ever-loving life out of someone afterward, especially if that someone was Just Jon, she could continue in the future. She wondered if he found the number, she'd left for him.

Poor baby needed to take one of the pain pills he'd received after their third or fourth round and they had knocked him on his ass. He was dead to the world when she left him as late as she could, scribbling her name and number on a scrap piece of paper she found on his kitchen counter, leaving it in Ghost's doggy bowl on the counter. He would surely find it there.

He hadn't called yet; maybe he was still passed out. She really wanted to see him again but didn't want to just drop by. Lest he think she was a stalker. She'd give it a couple days. She was never the one to be chasing after the man. They always wanted her and most of the time she didn't even want them.

This was totally different.

"Hmm?" she murmured, hearing Rhaegar say her name.

He snapped his finger sin front of her. "I said, you look exhausted. You should have slept better the night before a case, you know that." He puffed his chest. "I saw you got Ashara as your judge. Ashara Dayne is a close friend you know, Arthur's sister."

"I thought you were fucking Arthur?" Rhaegar had been known to jump around. Maybe he was now seeing Ashara, who knew any more.

"Not anymore, we're on a break. Just friends." He ran his fingers over his silver plait, tied at the end with a legitimate black velvet ribbon. Rhaegar was from another world, she mused, taking in his black velvet accented suit. He picked up his briefcase. "I have to go, meeting with the Minister of Laws."

"Stannis still butt burned he got passed over for that position again?"

"You know it. Of course Lady Olenna is the best person to uphold the laws." He grinned, flashing sharp white teeth. "She knows exactly how to break them too."

"Sounds like a lawmaker."

He rolled his eyes. "I knew you'd be here, wanted to just say hello. So, hello, carry on. Give Ashara my best."

"Hmm." Dany allowed Rhaegar to kiss her cheek, waiting for him to bounce off happily before she approached Missandei and Rakharo. She downed the rest of her coffee, jumping in her heels at the caffeine jolt. A very necessary caffeine jolt. She arched her brows at Rakharo, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. "It will be fine Rakharo. I know Judge Dayne, she's very fair and impartial. She will see the facts as they are and nothing more."

"I hope so," he muttered, fidgeting with his tie.

Missandei corrected the position and smoothed down his lapels. "Very handsome." She smiled briefly at her, allowing Rakharo to walk ahead to the courtroom. She muttered out of the corner of her breath, deep brown eyes dancing knowingly. "You didn't call me after you ran out of the gym after Jon. Also, if I'm not mistaken, that was a large coffee? You usually stick to medium herbal tea in the mornings."

She smiled tightly, trying not to let it take up her whole face. "Is it that obvious?"

"I think boxing was just a start, who knew fucking Jon was what would calm your nerves?"

"Missy," she giggled. She leaned in closer, whispering. "A lady never kisses and tells."

"But you're a dragon."

"Indeed. I'll tell you on the way back to the office."

Missandei chortled, walking ahead of her into the courtroom, Dany bringing up the rear. They went to the table reserved for the defendant, Rakharo already waiting, while his grandmother and a couple close friends sat behind the gate blocking off the bench and the tables from the gallery. There was a jury box to the side, but this was just a hearing and she sincerely hoped the entire case would get dismissed.

The door opened again, this time Samwell Tarly bustling in, looking flushed and overworked, as usual. She frowned at him, although she was secretly glad. Every time she had a case in front of Tarly, she wiped the floor with him. He was doing his time as a public servant before he went into his family's practice, although she'd heard horrid things of his father and did hope he'd find a nice teaching profession. It was probably better for him, doing research instead of actually litigating.

"Daenerys," he said, jumping in place when he dropped all his files. He rubbed his no doubt sweating palms on his wrinkled suit pants. "I forgot you were this morning."

Dany smirked. "Yes I am. Rakharo Dothrak?"

"Um, yes, that's right. Motion to Introduce New...." He fumbled with a file, sighing. "Ah, no that's the wrong one, um...ah, here it is."

They took their seats, waiting as a couple others entered, bailiff and court reporter. The bailiff, Dany recognized him from around the courtroom, a large man named Grenn, glanced to the door from the judge's chambers, which tugged open, the squeak on the hinges alerting him. He barked loudly. "All rise!"

Not looking up, Dany stood automatically at the command, smoothing her jacket over her hips and lifting her face, to glance in the judge's direction. "Oh!' she exclaimed, snapping her jaw shut tight, eyes popping.

"The Honorable Jon Snow, Presiding."

To her— shock? Horror? Fascination? Attraction?— overwhelming disbelief, the judge was not Ashara Dayne, dark-haired, violet-eyed beauty with the heart of gold, but _Just Jon_. _Jonny_ _Bloody Fucking Jon, the guy that I spent all night riding like he was my dragon and he's a fucking JUDGE!_

Dany screamed inwardly, unable to stop staring. At her side, Missandei muttered: "Well that's a development."

Jon hadn't noticed her yet, his black robes billowing out, holding a black portfolio in his hand as he ascended the stairs to the bench. His dark curls were not sweaty, tugged from his face in a bun, but loose around his face, clean and kempt. His nose was black and blue, eyes similar, and he looked tired— like her. He had a dark gray tie at his neck, crisp white shirt collar over the neck of the classic judge robes. He dropped the folder on the desk and pulled out his chair, calling in his Northern burr: "You may be seated."

He sat down with them, scooting forward, and took sight of her as she still stood. The only recognition was a small 'o' he made with his lips, his brows lifting imperceptibly. He cleared his throat, glancing at an intern hovering near the door. "Can I get a water before we begin Olly? Thanks." He returned his gaze to them, gesturing. "Ms. Targaryen is it? You may be seated."

Dany plopped down hard in the chair, awkward, slightly embarrassed. She stood up again, not a second after sitting. "Um, Your Honor? I believe Judge Dayne was..."

"Judge Dayne was called away to an emergency and I graciously stepped in, Ms. Targaryen, if you have a problem with that you can request a continuance, or we can carry on?" He was crisp, cool, and unsmiling. He cocked his head to the side. "I believe your client has been waiting for a day in court here, if I'm not mistaken you specifically requested the case return to the juvenile courts, it would be most unfair I think to allow the young man to wait further because your choice of judge is not present." He did not let her speak before he continued. "The People of Westeros vs. Rakharo Dothrak, grand theft auto, conspiracy to...hmm....well let's have it." He glanced at Sam, not waiting for him to stand before calling out. "Do you have anything to say in regard to this Motion to Dismiss?"

Sam fumbled, gathering up his legal pad, beginning to launch into his demand that the court not grant her motion, while also stumbling through his case law and mixing up a couple names. She hardly focused; Missandei was rapt, marking down notes here and there. She kept staring at Jon. He gave no further indication he recognized her. Or that at one point in the night he'd been tied to his own bedpost with her sports bra.

She squinted at him; teeth set. _Well if that's how he's going to play it..._ She could see how this went. If he would hold it all against her. He hadn't said one bloody word about being a judge. Then again, they had agreed not to speak about their careers, but he knew who she was. Daenerys Targaryen, it was on the paperwork she submitted at the gym, of course Davos probably told him.

This could go in a couple ways for Rakharo. She'd just have to see how it went. If he held it against her, she'd have more than enough to request a new hearing and also file a grievance against Judge Snow. _Judge Snow, what the bloody fuck_. He was so _young_. Her age! Not that being an old fool was the criteria for a judge, but still, it meant he'd been in the law for about as long as her, then run for the office. She didn't recall ever seeing him in the rotation, on any of the rosters, _nothing_. He just _appeared_.

"Ms. Targaryen?"

Dany jerked her head up. "Um, yes." She stood quickly, lifting her chin. This was about Rakharo, not about her. She smirked at Jon. "That's a pretty nasty injury you have there, Your Honor."

His lip quirked up. "Aye."

"Must have hurt."

"It did."

"Hope whoever did it got their..." She arched her brow again, purring. "Punishment."

Jon ran his tongue over his teeth, leaning back in the chair, his fingers on the gavel, idly twisting it from side to side. She remembered those long fingers, the way he'd done a similar movement with her. "Aye. I believe that person did."

"Well that's good, because the Court is punishing Rakharo Dothrak for a crime he did not commit," she said, parlaying instantly into her request to dismiss the case completely. She explained everything, using case law when necessary, how there were too many holes in the story from his brother, how the eye witnesses were proven incorrect, the racism and the xenophobia of the police officers who arrested Rakharo, and how he had been working on his education since the alleged incident.

When she concluded, she was winded, sitting back down, her fingers immediately clenching her pen. She eyed Jon, unsure what to make of him as she had no idea who he was, his background, and other than he was amazing in bed and had a tongue granted by the Gods, and yes, he liked to box for stress relief, he was a question mark to her.

He tapped his fingers to his temple, eyeing her curiously. He glanced at Sam, who was waiting, and then to Rakharo. He nodded to the young man. "Stand up."

Rakharo jumped up. "Yes, Your Honor?" he muttered.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen," Rakharo answered, coughing. "Your Honor."

Jon squinted, his lips swishing from side to side. He cocked his head again. "I was sixteen when I went to juvenile prison at the Wall." Dany drew in a sharp breath, staring in surprise. He smiled briefly. "For a crime I actually did commit. It's no place for anyone, let alone the innocent." He tapped his fingers on the bench again, sighing. "But I will admit, the evidence that you were not only there at the crime, but participated, is compelling. However..." He lifted up the file, flicking it open.

Dany realized then that this entire time, he hadn't even had it opened. He’d known every bit of it already. She was impressed. And extremely curious at this juvenile felon turned judge.

"However," Jon continued. "You have proven yourself to be dedicated to your education, getting clean, and you've disassociated from the individuals who allegedly put you in the position you now currently find yourself. I will also admit that the complaints and the evidence I see here relating to the personal opinions and behavior of the arresting officers is...well...bloody disgusting."

Sam jumped up. "Your Honor, Officer Bronn Blackwater was removed..."

"Sit down Sam," Jon ordered. Sam sat. He looked back at Rakharo. He shrugged. "I like second chances; I think everyone deserves them. I don't think we should be punished for the sins of our fathers or rather our brothers. I find the People's case is not substantiated, there is lack of evidence and too many holes for my liking, further..." He continued into citing some case law, right off the top of his head, and Dany blinked, shocked— even she didn't know some of the references he was making, noting to look them up once she got to the office.

Jon shrugged, smiling at Rakharo. "I have no choice it seems but to grant the defense's motion to dismiss." He picked up his gavel. "Motion to Dismiss, granted. Court is adjourned." He banged the gavel, gathering the file and standing. "MR. Dothrak, you are free to go. Ms. Targaryen, a word in my chambers."

Sam looked at her, worried. "What' she want you for?"

Even Rakharo, in his relief, hugging Missandei, looked at her worriedly. "Dany?"

"I'll be back, congratulations sweetie." She kissed his cheek, giving him a quick hug, and smiled at Missandei. "If I don't come out in ten minutes...I don't know if you should come looking for me."

"Oh I will definitely not be doing that." Missandei wiggled her brows. "Good luck."

Dany took a deep breath and picked up her bag, walking across the floor to the door exiting the courtroom into the judge's annex. And it seemed, she thought, as she entered an office off the long hallway, into the wolf's den.

* * *

Jon’s judge chambers were the chambers formerly belonging to Barristan Selmy, Dany realized upon entry. They were vacated when Selmy retired earlier that year. She hadn’t realized anyone was appointed to finish his term. Surely, she would have? She needed to follow up when she got back to the office but for now, she focused on why she had never heard of one Judge Jon Snow.

The office was gray, his preferred color, she supposed, with worn walnut furniture and tons of moving boxes stacked around. He tugged at the robes, removing them while studying her. “I don’t bite,” he teased, hanging the robes up in an armoire next to the bookcases behind his desk, He arched his brows. “Unless you want me too.”

She stiffened; hands tightly clenched at her sides. “Do I refer to you as Your Honor or Judge Snow or Jon or….” she trailed off, snapping. “White Wolf?”

He frowned. “We agreed no talking about personal things.”

“You knew I was a lawyer.”

“Davos commented on it. Yes. I knew you were Daenerys Targaryen.” He shrugged. “And I wasn’t going to put you off by saying that I happened to be the newest appointed juvenile court judge.” He smirked. “We can keep this professional, aye?”

She certainly hoped so. She had nothing against these types of relationships, but yes, she would need to recuse herself and never have another case in his court again. Running her tongue over her teeth, she moved closer to his desk. It served as a barrier between them, helpful now while she ruminated over what to do.

Arms crossed; she studied his expression. It was impassive, his emotions hidden behind the darkening gray eyes and the taped up bruised bloodied nose. She sucked her bottom lip under her top teeth. “That still hurt?”

“A lot.” He smirked. “Might be worth it.”

“Oh?”

“You left your number in Ghost’s bowl. I assume that was for me and not him.” He smiled. “Although wouldn’t be the first time Ghost has poached someone from me.”

Dany tried not to smile. She didn’t go for those cutesy little things. Not usually. This guy was different. She looked askance to the framed diplomas on the wall. “Torrhen University.” A very prestigious college in the North. His JD from…she smiled, murmuring, “King Jaehaerys University, College of Law.” Same one as her. The best law school in all of Westeros.

They were off by a year. She was a first year when he had been third. She squinted. “I never heard of you there.”

“I went by another name then.”

“Oh?”

He shrugged. She moved closer and saw his name on the diploma. “Stark!?” she exclaimed. She whipped her head. “Lord Eddard Stark is…”

“My uncle. Arya is my cousin.” He shifted, his arms crossing his chest and the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt pulling back to give her a glimpse of the tattoos on his wrists.

She laughed. “Love and duty. I thought you named your fists because you were a boxer.”

“Love,” Jon said, smiling softer. “Is something to remember while you do your duty. It’s also how I view the law. One does not trump the other but need to be viewed together.”

This was getting deep. She narrowed her eyes. “Were you really at the Wall?”

“Yes,” he answered, teeth clenched. He scowled. “Got my scars there.”

“These ones?” She was now on the other side of the desk barrier and lightly touched his chest, where one of the scars littering his chest happened to be.

“Aye.”

“And you became a lawyer?”

“Aye.” He shrugged. “I was at the Wall by choice. It was there or real jail.”

“What did you do?”

He chuckled. “Had a wicked stepmother who blamed me for everything. Thought’d I get back at her. It didn’t work out. I ended up in juvie.” He shrugged again, watching her move closer to him. His voice dropped, husky. “Cleaned up, I still box to deal with the anger.”

“Hmm, I know something about that.” She was in his space, forcing him backwards. He leaned back, moving to sit against it. She was so upset to find his ass was equally as impressive if not more so in black dress pants. She stood carefully next to him, barely grazing his knee. “So you got my number,” she said. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She tingled all over, body responding to his presence, her belly tightening. She wetted her lips, murmuring. “Were you planning on calling me or was I going to have to wait to see you at the gym again?”

His eyes turned black, voice husky when he replied, “I was hoping to see you again and not just at the gym.”

“And you would have told me you were a judge?”

“Aye. And my last name. Jon Snow.” He grinned. “I think you and I both know that wasn’t going to be one night.” He chuckled. “You broke my bloody nose. If that’s not an invitation for you to buy me dinner, I don’t know what is.”

“I did offer to pay your copay,” she snarked.

He grinned. “And I invited you home. It wasn’t just going to be that.”

It certainly was not, not after what they shared. Last night had been something...wholly unique. Regardless of the following surprise the next day. Should he have told her? Probably. Was she going to let it be a problem? Probably not. She supposed they could call it even. She broke his nose...he didn’t tell her he was a judge. Reaching for his tie, she began to fondle it, fingers stroking up the length of gray silk, whispering seductively. “You may have ruled in my favor Judge Snow, but I am still upset at you not telling me your job.”

“I’m most apologetic.”

“Indeed,” she whispered, edging closer, their breath mingling, hot puffs, coming in increasingly quick intakes, as the tension swelled between them. “And you know that I joined your gym to work out my stress and anger at things that go on in my work.”

“Same.”

“So I would like to continue doing so.”

He tsked. “I am so sorry Dany, but you see...” he pointed at his nose. “Can’t really be boxing right now. Or for a few more weeks.”

Her jaw dropped, mock shock crossing her face. “Oh no we can’t have that. Whatever will you do to relieve your stress? Perhaps manage your anger?”

By now she had pulled the tie completely off his neck, fingers working their way back down his shirt, buttons slipping. His hands were on her skirt, fabric bunching in his palms, inching farther and farther up over her hips. Where he would soon find her dirty little secret, she thought, grinning wickedly.

He reached under, where he found her bare arse, his hands wide and warm, squeezing gently. She gasped, along with him. He was actually surprised. “Daenerys you seem to be missing some clothing.”

“It gives me an edge over the judge in court.”

He growled, low in his throat. “Dirty Dany.”

She puckered her lips, barely touching his, delighting in the escaped groan from deep in his chest. “Back to our discussion. What will you do now for stress?”

At that, Jon lifted her clear from the ground, her heels falling off, and she gasped, the sound muffled when he crushed his lips to hers, careful of his battered nose. He spun her back, dropping her onto the desk and fell to his knees, hers falling apart automatically. He growled against her bare thigh, kissing a track up to the crease of her hip. His warm breath ticked her skin, sending shockwaves through her. warmth and desire pooled between her legs, cunt slickening.

“Oh,” she mumbled, rising back on her elbows, watching him. That was certainly a way to deal. One she had no complaints about. She lifted her knee, foot resting on his shoulder.

Jon’s tongue darted out to trace above her cunt. “I can think of a few things. Some might be better than your kickboxing.”

Dany sobbed at the first swipe of his tongue over her center and she fell backwards onto the desk, fingers curling in his hair, in absolute agreement.

**fin.**


	2. stress relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany feels very out of sorts and accidentally lets it out on Jon during one of their sparring sessions; but she makes it up to him later, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look another chapter when I have other WIPs to finish. Life has been shitty lately (when hasn't it?) and this was fun to keep writing these two. I'm kind of in love with Judge Jon and Crazy Lawyer Dany that I don't even care if this is probably a repeat of other fics I have written.
> 
> Also stop asking about Silent Shadows epilogue-- I'm working on it. That fic means so much to me that I'm kind of sad to say goodbye to it so I've been dragging my feet.
> 
> Enjoy these lunatics.

* * *

"Sit down!"

The force in Jon's voice boomed through the courtroom, downright shaking the rafters, followed immediately after by the banging of his gavel, wood cracking on wood. At the prosecutor's desk, Samwell Tarly looked fit to faint, almost cowering behind his table, while Satin Flowers, Jon's clerk, sat at the desk beside the bench with wide-eyed fascination. Grenn the bailiff and another bailiff Pyp had run over to restrain the defendant, a massive hulking beast of a teenager named Rast, who was shouting how he'd cut off "Piggy's nose."

The Piggy, it seemed, was Sam, who had done the unthinkable and recommended the case be transferred to the criminal court, as Rast had apparently been in and out of juvenile so much it was only a matter of time before he would end up there. He had been brought all the way down from the Wall, decided to escape his half-house, and then lead a robbery spree that injured a woman.

Dany had no intention of stopping in Jon's court, but she had finished early with a battle with Tyrion across the yard and thought maybe she'd see if he wanted to grab some lunch before she went back to the office to prepare for a major case, she had in Braavosi court in a couple months. She popped into the court, saw that he was in session, and took a seat in the back, watching him work.

He was so fair, she marveled, smiling as he gave attention to both sides and asked pointed questions designed not to judge but to get all the facts. Then of course, the defendant had to go off. Now Jon was furious, seething behind his bench, his arms braced and hands digging into the ornate carved wooden railing blocking him from everyone below. HIs robes were tight on his shoulders, muscles underneath no doubt straining. His lip curled, snarling at Rast, and his kind gray eyes black as night.

_Gods I need him so badly right now_ , Dany thought, licking her dry lips in anticipation. She reached her finger up to her mouth, nibbling her thumbnail, watching wide-eyed when everyone had calmed down and Jon sank back onto his chair, after shouting at Rast, smashing the gavel a couple more times, and demanding Rast control himself— and Rast's attorney Thorne get him under control— or else he was going to have him in contempt.

Jon waited for everyone to sit down, Rast straining in his chair, held down by Grenn. He jabbed the gavel in the air towards Rast. "You did not help your case," he said coolly.

"I didn't do it!"

"You attacked the prosecutor. Regardless of your alleged crimes before you came into this courtroom, you just broke any trust you may have established here." Jon glared at Throne, who looked ready to murder his client. He hissed at him. "This is the third of your clients in two weeks who have behaved like animals in my court. Control them, Thorne, or else I'll have to look at you a bit closer." He narrowed his eyes, grinning darkly. "Understand?"

Thorne, a nasty lawyer who despised Jon and always had apparently, growled. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Your Honor," he bit.

Jon flashed a quick smile. He glanced at her in the back of the court, his eyes remaining as she smiled around her thumb, legs crossed tightly. She was wearing his favorite outfit, a crimson sheath that left one of her shoulders bare, but in deference to the court she had on a black blazer, her stilettos crisscrossing over her feet in a web of buckles. She had on a dragon brooch at her lapel. The dress was skintight with stitching across it that gave the appearance of scales. She loved it.

He called out again. "I will consider the prosecution's request, until judgment on this matter, the defendant is remanded into custody of the Crownlands Provincial Detention."

"But Your Honor," Thorne began.

Jon didn't listen, smacking the gavel. "Court is adjourned."

Pyp shouted. "All rise!"

They did so as Jon gathered his things and walked out, with a quick glance over his shoulder in her direction, a wide smile on his lips before he disappeared into the judge annex. He was followed closely by Satin, who was fussing with paperwork. Dany slipped out of the courtroom first, making her way rather lazily towards his chambers. She paused outside of the heavy onyx door, made of carved dragonglass, with the gilded nameplate beside it. _The Honorable Jon Snow, Juvenile Court Associate Judge_

She lightly tapped her fingers to it, and noticing a smudge on the corner, frowned and used the silk scarf attached to her tote bag to clean the gold sign, smiling at it. She pushed open the door, entering the main reception area, where Gilly Tarly— his other clerk and assistant— sat at her desk, on the phone with huge eyes, no doubt listening to her husband relay the circus at court.

Gilly waved her through without a word, nodding along. "Wow Sam, wow....and you survived? Wow..."

Dany chuckled, walking by the antechamber where Satin's office was, filled to bursting with books, files, and folders. There was a small conference area and then Jon's office, with its two doors, the one slightly hidden against the wall which led to the snaking passageways between the courtrooms and the chambers. She entered without a word, dropping her tote on one of the plush club chairs in front of his desk, while Satin paid her no attention, stumbling through Jon’s schedule with him.

"I have a draft of the judgment on the Thenn matter, then there's also this phone call I received regarding the wilding care legislation you were to provide testimony on, plus Mr. Giantsbane called to inform you that if you do not show up at the meeting you will..." Satin trailed off, flushing pink, his beautiful face looking like carved ivory with two red circles on his cheeks. "I do not care to repeat it."

Jon chuckled, scanning his messages. "I can assume." He glanced over at her and cut Satin off immediately. "Thanks Satin, we can talk after lunch."

"You have a pre-trial hearing at two..."

"I know, I'll be done by then, clear my schedule for the next two hours, hold all calls."

"There's also that dinner tonight..."

"I'll be there," Jon interrupted him. He walked Satin to the door, the clerk barely nodding at her, and trying to get one more word in before Jon slammed the door, making sure to flick the lock. He spun around, grinning at her. "Hey."

"Hey," she cooed.

They locked eyes, not saying a word, until she was suddenly on the couch in the corner, Jon's hard body covering hers, the two of them tangled up, frantically trying to kiss the other, a mess of teeth and tongues. She yanked at his tie, diving her fingers into his shirt collar to touch his warm skin, groaning when he pulled back, arms remaining snaked around her, and palms wide on her back. The warmth seeped through, sending her toes curling in her heels. She flung off one— the buckles were an illusion they were easy to step in and out of— the shoe knocking onto his bookcase, the other falling off the edge of the couch.

Jon leaned backwards, pulling her over him so she could stretch out atop him, twirling with his tie. "What is this nice surprise?"

"I wanted to see if you were free for lunch but got a show instead."

"And I see that it affected you greatly."

"Hmm," she hummed. "My big strong judge, telling those nasty little rulebreakers what for."

"You defend those nasty little rulebreakers."

"I can tell the ones who have heart and future and the ones who are sadly too far gone." She frowned, thinking of the darkness that surrounded the boy in the courtroom. "That one today is too far."

Jon sighed. "Doesn't help he has Thorne as his attorney."

"Will you revert the case to criminal court?"

"Unfortunately I think the only way Rast will learn a lesson is if he's with the big boys, but I need to review the facts of the case." He twirled a lock of her hair, which had escaped her braids, around his index finger, pondering the vaulted ceiling. "But I think yes, I will have to do that."

She kissed his chin, his beard bristly and tickling her lips. "Such a fair man."

"I try to be."

"I don't know how all the women in your court can stand upright, with you there in your robes and with your gavel." She made a face. "Perhaps I should set up shop in the back."

He laughed. "You're the only one I can handle."

"Good." Dany climbed off him, tugging her blazer back into place, feet bare on the plush carpets, curling into the softness. She sighed, thinking that lunch might now be out of the question, glancing at her watch. She shrugged. "I think maybe we don't have time to get anything. We have the gala tonight; I get to walk around like a judge's wife." She preened. "Do you know what they call us around here?"

Jon frowned, walking around the edge of his desk. He picked up his robes, which he'd tossed on his chair, and began to hang them up. "You know I pay no attention to that drivel."

She giggled. "The Wolf King and the Dragon Queen. Apparently, we are a judicial power couple."

"Oh if only they knew." He wrinkled his nose up, which she tapped with her fingertip, the bump that had been there for several months now smoothed out from the surgery he'd needed to get to reset it. Apparently, her initial punch had dislodged it in such a way he had trouble sleeping. She didn't mind, he was handsome with or without the broken nose.

Before she went home to prepare for the gala, she also wanted to escape and get a workout in. She pretended to punch him, hitting the air instead. "Wanna' make a date later?"

"Don't you have to spend the entire evening preparing for the stupid party?"

"Jon do I look like a woman that has to spend the entire evening preparing for a stupid party?" She slid her hand down over her side and smacked at her hip, giggling when he lunged towards her, spinning her around. Her feet lifted off the ground, setting back lightly when he bent her backwards into a long, sweet kiss. The times when they could actually be cute with each other, she thought, as she returned with equal sweetness, her fingers threading through his curls, she truly savored. Too often they were frantic, consumed with other emotions, and she liked it when he was playful.

He lightly dropped his hands to cup her arse, growling. "I feel like that's a trick question, but I will answer anyway, counselor."

"Hmm, and how do you answer, Your Honor?"

"You could wear a paper bag and you're the most beautiful woman in the known and the unknown worlds," he murmured, the corners of his eyes softening, his voice a heavy burr, thick from emotion. He touched the tip of his nose to hers, murmuring. "I love you."

Her belly contracted, warmth spreading through her, and sending her muscles to jelly. "I love you too," she breathed, framing his face in her palms, kissing softly once more. They sighed together, in sated bliss, savoring the moment.

Until there came a banging on his door, Satin's quiet voice filtering through. "Um, Your Honor? We have an ex parte here, need an immediate review."

Jon made a face, groaning. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I'll see you at four then? You can take your anger out in the ring." She lightly swatted his cheek and he pretended to knock his head backwards like she'd KO'd him. She giggled again; _Gods he's the only man in the universe who has sent me into girlish delight_. "I have to spend the rest of my day reading up on human rights abuses in Braavos, so I will desperately need to get that anger out before this stupid gala."

"And also the fact that the Lannisters will be there. It's to give Tywin Lannister an award."

"Oh who the bloody fuck cares what he's pretended to do for law," she snapped. He was a horrible menace on society in her opinion. Not to mention his entire family was consumed with the worst of the legal and political world. Her eyebrows arched. "IS Robert going to be there?" His son-in-law happened to be the Prime Minister and also happened to be an arch-enemy of Rhaegar.

Only Rhaegar could have arch-enemies in today's day and age, she thought briefly, as Jon consulted the notes that Satin had left him on the matter. He sighed, nodding. "Aye. Looks like."

"I was able to wipe the floor with Tyrion earlier. At least that makes me happy when I see him tonight."

The door opened, Satin no longer able to wait any longer, his hand over his eyes. "Your Honor?"

"Knock it off Satin," Jon chided. He came around again and kissed her softly. "See you at the gym."

"Bye love." She smirked at Satin, bending down to pick up her heels and slip them on. She snatched her tote on the way out the door and patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Relax Satin, we're decent." The poor clerk had the misfortune one afternoon to walk right in after she had gotten up from under Jon's desk. He still didn’t believe that she had simply dropped her earring. Which she had. After Jon had knocked it off while she’d been sucking him off and tearing at her hair only minutes before. He had been in the ensuite bathroom cleaning up at the time thankfully, but Satin’s instincts had been spot on.

Dany waved at Gilly, who was still on the phone with Sam, and left the office, heels click-clacking on the marble, her mood considerably boosted for a variety of reasons. She got to see Jon in full blown Judge Mode, which definitely was a turn on and partly why she didn’t bother with panties when she had to visit him in session. It was just easier. She was able to at least see him midday which she normally didn't get to do, so plus there. Now she had a workout to look forward to.

Nothing was going to take her down, she thought, smiling as she blew open the doors to exit the complex.

* * *

"Anger Daenerys!"

"Stop moving!"

"That's the point!"

"Argh!" Dany spun around, her foot in a perfect point, leg straight, and hands up, hoping to at least get Jon on the side, but he dodged easily, ducking away from her attempt to knock him on his ass.

Sitting in a chair on the other side of the mat, Davos had his arms crossed, sightly and trying to call out commands, but neither of them listened. It was all out _war_ for them both when they stepped onto the mat. It wasn't _quite_ boxing or any sort of standard martial arts like Faceless, but mixed and ferocious, and what one might think a wolf and dragon ripping it out of each other would entail.

They'd been together for almost a year now, since that fateful evening when she'd broken his nose and they'd discovered many wonderful things about their connection. In that time, their love had grown deeper, bigger, and all-consuming, but that changed the moment they stepped onto the mat. That's where the bloodlust took over, where the tension was allowed to bottle up, up, up, and then pop off.

Davos _hated_ it.

He was always the one who had to sit or stand around, trying to get them to knock it off and be serious, which they were. Her only problem was she still let her anger take over sometimes and she wanted to just _burn it down_. Jon was the more zen-like of the two, able to disassociate and focus, channel anything he was annoyed about or frustrated with, when they decided to spar with each other.

it was just when she left the complex she'd gone back to the office, only to be dealt disappointment after disappointment with her cases, research, and then had to deal with Rhaegar saying that that evening she needed to be with him to try to sway some prosecutors he was trying to get to come over to Targaryen & Targaryen, while Viserys schmoozed with the politicians. "Come on, tonight I want to hang out with Jon," she protested.

"Even better, your access to a _judge_ is quite a recruitment device."

"Rhaegar!" Their relationship was strictly on the up-and-up. Jon was never assigned to her cases and recused himself when he saw that she had bene involved, if that happened. She did the exact same.

Then she'd gotten a phone call.

"I told you, I had nothing to do with it!" Jon shouted at her, slinging his fist out to try to clip her shoulder, but she ducked and spun out of the way, dropping to the mat and rolling away when he tried to get at her again.

On the mat, she scissored her legs, trying to take him at the knees, but he jumped practically sky-high and fell down next to her, snatching her around the waist when she wasn't prepared, grappling with her. She grunted and elbowed his gut, sending him backwards so she could pounce again. "You should have told me that she was in town!"

"She's my ex-girlfriend for a reason, Dany!"

Davos immediately stood up and walked off, while Gendry called over to see if they needed to get an ambulance at the ready. She wasn't sure about that.

"She's a vicious little she-devil," Dany growled. She _hated_ Ygritte Wilde. The woman played dirty. Normally she stayed in the Northern courts, as that was where the Free Folk— Ygritte's chosen cause to defend— predominantly had their concerns. Sometimes though they popped up in the Crownlands and Dany had been called upon to represent them in the High Court, since she had the experience and the necessary qualifications. Ygritte did not. It meant that Dany would have to work with her, one-on-one, and she was _not_ pleased with the idea.

"I don't know why you’re pissed at me!"

"I'm not!" He happened to be the closest person to take on her frustration. She rocketed to her feet at the same time he did, both of them knocking fists together, the gloves smashing hard enough she felt her knuckles knock into his through the padding. She blew out a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead, growling. "You know these things."

He shook his head, sweat dripping down his neck. He'd shed his t-shirt earlier and she was trying very hard not to focus on how he glistened, muscles bunching and clenching. "I knew she was in town, she called me."

"She _what_!?" Dany didn't get jealous and she had no reason to be. She was very confident in Jon's love for her. Nothing could separate them. She just didn't like it when he didn't _tell_ her these things.

"I didn't think it was a big deal!"

"You should have told me!"

"Since when do you get _jealous_?"

That was a good question. She never got jealous. Especially with respect to something like Jon's ex-girlfriend, who when she'd learned he'd dated the woman, had been quite surprising indeed. It was not surprising to her that despite the fact they'd been together through law school and a couple years afterward, it was an off-on thing because she hated that he wanted to actually work for the "oppressive regime" that she was trying to basically overthrow, particularly in the North. When he moved south, he broke off all ties and it worked. She was not threatened at all.

She just really didn't like the woman's way of doing things, nor did she care for the fact that he had kept quiet about her being in town _and_ that he hadn't told her that Ygritte had called him to just _catch up_. That's what annoyed her.

"We have open communication Jon!"

He dove for her waist, tackling her back. She grunted as he tried to pin her down, slipping his knee between hers and locking his ankles around her legs, both of them rolling so they were almost like a crab on its back, his arms pinned around her and she fought to get underneath. They fought dirty, against Davos's rules to wear protective padding when they decided to go all-out. She didn't care one way or the other; they wouldn't hurt each other.

He growled into her ear as she tried to fight him off. "Aye, I know we do! I was _going_ to tell you before the fucking gala thing tonight!"

She snapped her teeth, rocking to the side with enough momentum, doing a fake with her left hand, just so she could take her right and flip up his elbow, which he'd stupidly let go slack. She ducked out of his grip, lurched forward and rolled to the side away from him, bouncing easily back up to her feet, her fist striking out to knock at his hand. "Fine," she huffed, giving him that much. She spun and kicked; he grabbed her ankle and twisted, the two of them falling back down onto the mat again.

They were getting sloppy; they probably should hang it up soon, she figured. She kicked her feet, but it was too late, Jon had caged her in, his hands on her wrists, pushing them above her head; his knees locked at her hips, feet snaked around her calves so she could only struggle. He grinned, his curls springing free around his knotted little pretentious man-bun, giving him a mad-scientist look. "Yield," he purred, his pupils black as night, drowning out the ring of gray.

She curled her lip up, smoke furling from her nostrils. "Never."

"Honestly if you give her a chance, you two might get along."

"Never!"

"You're on the same bloody side!"

Be that as it may, Dany remembered Ygritte's tactics the last time she'd had to deal with her, and she refused to work like that. Even as a dragon she had scruples. Ygritte did not. She snarled. "Rhaegar wants me to parade you around like a bloody showpiece tonight."

"So I just your arm candy, is that it?"

"Yes," she laughed, letting her arms slacken. He smiled down at her and that was the problem with Jon Snow. He thought too much with his heart. She cackled, yanking her hands free. He yelped, realizing his mistake, and she grabbed his shoulders, lunging and snapping her thighs about his hips, pushing him onto his back, reversing their positions. "Yield!"

He laughed, shaking under her. "Oh Dany, gods I love you. You're so predictable."

"What?"

Now he flipped to the side, the two of them rolling a few times until eventually they gave up, considering it a draw. She got up, wiping her forearm over her forehead, panting. The shorts and bra she wore were drenched, the workout doing exactly what she wanted, her muscles warm, loose, and heart straining to keep up with the blood pumping through her. Adrenaline wearing off, she knew she'd get a little sleepy, but then she'd be completely energized, especially for that evening's playacting.

Jon caught the water bottle Arya threw at him from atop the platform nearest them, gesturing with it to her in thanks. She made a face. "You both need to learn Faceless; it might hone you a bit more."

"Like they need to learn how to be more lethal, lass," Davos said from the corner, where he was unraveling hand wraps fresh from the wash. He lifted his bushy brows, shaking his head disbelievingly at them both. "You two...I keep expecting to come in and find you both dead on the floor."

Dany took the water from Jon, squirting it into her mouth and swishing around. She thumbed her upper lip, where she'd nipped it earlier, fresh blood forming. She winced; that might be hard to explain away tonight. She glanced at a clock in the far corner, groaning. "We have to go," she complained, smacking her hand back against Jon's chest.

He looked at the clock, confirming he knew they were late already with a face of his own. "Guess we should get back and clean up." He took the water back, holding it in one hand while he slow-motion punched his arm out, rotating his wrist. He frowned. "I can't believe I missed your uppercut."

Even though they had to hurry, when it came to their sparring, they both liked to do an after-action report. She hunkered down, fists raised and moved her head at the same time she punched out, slow, knocking his hand aside. Davos came over, motioning for them to step aside so he could actually _train_ and not just babysit. She watched, listening attentively when he directed them both on how to respond to that type of attack.

He gestured. "Go on, give it a go."

Dany took up her stance and Jon moved, at the same time she did. She dodged, like Davos told her, and brought up her knee to mime getting Jon in the gut. She missed the water that had spilled from the bottle when she guzzled a moment before, her already sweaty foot slipping on the patch, and yelped, surprised, when she lost her balance, her leg flying up at the same time Jon moved to take her down like Davos had coached.

And her knee when straight where Jon's tree and boulders happened to be.

The sound he made shook her to her core, Davos shouting and instinctively flinching. Arya burst out laughing, as was her custom when someone was injured, and Dany screamed so loud she suspected everyone thought she'd accidentally murdered him. Everyone else in the gym whipped around to see the commotion, Gendry hurdling over the railing from the upper platform to the mats to see what had happened.

"Jon!" she sobbed, falling atop him. "Oh Jon!"

"Don't touch me," he squeaked.

She clutched him, truly apologetic. "My foot slipped!"

HIs face was white, all the blood no doubt draining from his body to protect its ability to further produce other Jons. She was mortified, clutching him like he'd just been stabbed or shot in battle. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes and she sniffled, pressing her face into his sweaty neck, not caring at all how gross they were, how other people might look at them, her first thought on comforting him.

He groaned, rocking slightly underneath her, his voice strained. "Fuck Dany, you have a kick."

"And a punch, she's gotten you twice now!"

Davos frowned from above, hands on his hips, shaking his head. "Am I going to have to report you Daenerys?"

"I'm so sorry!" she wailed. She hiccupped. "You should have been wearing a cup or something."

"Ooh blaming the victim," Arya chided. She pushed her toe on Jon's knee. "But seriously dude, protect the baby makers. I want nieces and nephews."

Gendry returned from the other room, holding a bag of ice, which Jon grabbed immediately, shoving it underneath her; she still hadn't bothered to move, still holding on to him. He nudged at her. "I'm alright Dany...I think."

"Perhaps we should get you looked at."

"Hazard of the workout, I suppose," Arya mused.

Davos shook his head, hands now thrown to the heavens. "I try! I try to get you lot to wear protective equipment, but no, you know better. Well that's why you sign liability agreements."

Helping him to his feet, limping slightly, Jon gazed down at her, his eyes sparkling— whether from tears, pain, or love, Dany didn't know- sighing. "You sure know how to keep me on my feet. Broken nose, broken dick, what's next?"

"We don't have to go to the gala."

"I think I can make it..." He tried to quicken his pace and froze, face going white again. His eyes screwed shut. "Maybe not just yet."

Do you want to go to the hospital?"

"Fuck no."

_Well alright then._ Dany let him escape into the bathroom, where she wasn't sure if he was throwing up or if he had passed out or what happened, until he limped back out, his face no longer ashen, just a pale pink, color slowly returning. She wrapped her arms around his neck when he approached her, sniffling into his shoulder. "I'm sorry. We don't have to go do that thing tonight. That was all for Rhaegar anyway."

"No, we can do it."

"I owe you so much."

He smirked, tweaking her nose before he pressed a quick kiss to her pursed lips. "Dany, you owe me more than I think you ever will."

She winced, lifting her brows, hopeful. "At least I didn't break it!"

He cringed with another step to the door, arm around her waist. "Too soon love, too soon."

* * *

"Lord Tywin, I would like to introduce you to my brother-in-law, the Honorable Jon Snow," Rhaegar cooed, in his absolute element flitting from person to person, his long fingers curled tight around Jon's arm, dragging him away from where Dany had tried to hide her husband from most people. He still was recovering from her slipped kick earlier, plus he just was not good in these environments anyways.

She mouthed 'sorry' when Jon shot her a pained expression. She went with him, despite Rhaegar wanting her to work the room to identify anyone who might be 'unhappy' with their current assignments and thought perhaps Targaryen & Targaryen was the place to make their career dreams come true. "Only good lawyers Daenerys, you know the rules," he'd reminded her, like she didn't already know.

She scanned the crowd, idly sipping her Reach champagne— it was too fruity for her liking— picking out people here and there. It was a 'who's who' of politics and judiciary, the gala an event to 'honor' Tywin for some donation or another. It was not her thing either. Jon had to go because if he didn't, his boss— Lady Olenna the Minister of Laws— would have his head on a pike. "And your hair is so pretty I'll have it preserved for posterity and placed in my office," she had said specifically.

The constant fake-smiling was grating. She also was tired of answering questions about Jon. She'd run into Margaery Tyrell, who was dating his cousin Robb— the legal counsel for his family's company in the North— enduring several passive aggressive swipes from her thorny friend. "A judge Daenerys, my, my, moving up in the world from Dothraki tycoons and that piece of work from Meereen," she had said.

Even though they were friends they were also competitors. Margaery was a partner in a criminal defense firm and also was second in the class in law school— Dany was first. She pawned Margaery off to go schmooze some people for her firm, leaving Dany to babysit Jon. She was getting frustrated, wishing they could leave, her heels hurting, her stomach felt all bloated from the champagne, and her knuckles were aching from their workout earlier. Plus she still felt _horrible_ for what she'd done to Jon and wanted to make sure he was alright.

He hadn't really let her inspect any damage when they got home, showering alone while she fussed with making sure his suit was pressed and his military medals were shiny along the breast pocket. As a judge, Jon also had to wear a ceremonial black sash over his tux, which he despised, a gray medal pinned at the bottom near his hip, with a snarling wolf— indicating he was one of the appointees from the North.

Dany stood at his side, arm looped through his, listening as Tywin sneered at Jon and made a comment over how he thought perhaps his son Jaime might have received the appointed position after Barristan Selmy's retirement. "We always wanted a judge in the family," he commented.

Jon ground his teeth, a muscle ticking. "I suppose Lady Olenna wanted to ensure that the open judgeship went to someone with the required experience. Juvenile court is not the path to the parliament you might think it to be."

_Burn_ , Dany thought, grinning and finishing off her drink. She set it on a passing waiter's tray, the movement catching Rhaegar's attention. He frowned. "Daenerys, what happened to your hand?"

That brought everyone's attention to her purple knuckles, Tyrion appearing of course at that moment. She smiled at her enemy, who was fairly far into his cups. "I bruised them knocking Tyrion on his ass in court today."

"Excuse me?!" Tywin huffed.

In the ensuing affrontery, Rhaegar closing his eyes and shaking his head side-to-side in disbelief, Jon made their escape, hurrying away. He kissed her temple. "Thank gods for boxing, that was genius."

"Hmm, I know." She turned, arms around his hips and his around her waist, the two of them as private as could be in the massive Red Keep throne room. At the head of the room was a replica of the Iron Throne. She hated the thing; all the events here were drafty and gave her chills, like she'd been there before, and it hadn't ended well.

Her husband nuzzled behind her ear, causing her heavy blood red ruby and onyx earrings to sway. She turned her head slightly, brushing his nose, smiling at his rare display of public affection, beyond simply holding her hand or waist. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening?" he murmured, his breath tickling her ear, sending tiny tremors through her body.

She purred, lips brushing his. "You have, but I will take any compliment you bestow upon me. You're very handsome yourself this evening." Her index finger tapped one of the medals on his chest, fingernail clinking the metal. "How are your...uh..." She thought of a metaphor, shrugging. "Stones?"

He winced again, reaching around to take her hand, tugging her in front of him. "Remind me never to get on your bad side. Ever." He chuckled, arching his brow, teasing. "And if we can never have kids, well I guess we know who to blame."

"Har, har," she mock laughed. She pushed at his shoulder. "You've been hit there before."

"I'll be wearing a cup from here on out when we spar."

"Spar?"

They both glanced sideways, seeing Jon's uncle and his aunt, who Dany despised, standing beside them. Jon stiffened; he was always awkward around them both and Dany did not blame him. His uncle had been kind to Jon, but there was always a point where he deferred to his wife, who was abominable, who exaggerated the crime Jon had done as a child— he'd stolen her car and crashed it, just to prove to her he was as 'bad' as she thought he was— sending him to the Wall when he was but a kid.

She curled her lip over her teeth, almost hissing. "Lord Stark..." She sneered. "Lady Stark."

"Jon, Daenerys, lovely to see you this evening," Ned said kindly. He nudged Catelyn. "Isn't it Cat?"

Cat smirked at them both. "What is this sparring you're speaking about?" Her voice was so frosty, Dany wondered if the Iron Throne had frozen over to become an Ice Throne behind them. "You are a judge; you should know better. In fact, I heard there was an incident in your courtroom earlier today." She sniffed. "You should be more professional."

It was a great affront to Cat that her son was content to be legal counsel for the Stark company and not go into politics, which technically a judgeship happened to be. Jon getting that over Robb, Dany knew it grated the woman, and so she happily rubbed it in. "I was there today actually, the defendant, a violent and troubled boy, was upset with the prosecution, Jon was able to swiftly handle and deescalate the situation without any threat of violence or harm to anyone, as the boy was trying to get to the prosecutor." She patted his hand, doing a rather petty move and using her left hand, so Cat's eyes dropped to the sapphire and diamond wedding set, which had once belonged to Jon's mother. It was well known that all of Lyanna's jewelry had gone to her son, Cat wanting it for her daughters instead. Dany wasn't sure Arya even knew what jewelry was, but her sister Sansa definitely did.

Continuing, Dany smiled up at Jon. "He diffused the situation, and that boy will be getting the help he needs, as well as the proper sentencing for his conviction."

Ned beamed at his nephew, oblivious to the cold war between the two women or Jon's stiffness. "That's quite something. I hadn't heard any of that today. It does seem that juvenile court is where you want to be. I know that we were just speaking with Lady Olenna, there will be a judgeship opening in the appellate court..."

"I have no interest," Jon snapped. He clutched her hand tight. "I like the juvenile court. It suits me. I have more impact."

"Even so Jon..."

He let Ned talk, waxing about potential career advancement. When she'd had enough, as well as Jon, Dany interrupted. "So sorry Lord Stark, but Jon and I were preparing to leave. We had a very long day and well, our workout got a little carried away afterward."

"Workout?" he wondered.

Jon growled. "Boxing, martial arts, remember? I got into it after..." he let his voice trail, waving his hand. "Everything."

"Oh yes, I remember, you got a black belt in that Faceless thing Arya goes on and on about." He rolled his eyes. "She insists on showing us her gym. I suppose we will stop by this week during our stay."

"She's very good," Dany said. She knew Arya didn't need her defense, but she wanted to provide it regardless. She loved her sister-in-law. Cousin-in-law, whatever. She smirked. "But I stick to sparring Jon. We have a lot of fun."

Cat gasped, touching her neck, shocked. "You two actually fight?"

"Oh they're crazy."

Now Rhaegar had joined, a martini in his hand. He smiled warmly at Ned, who shook his hand. "Lord Stark, pleasure to see you again. So sorry, but Daenerys, dear, have you seen our brother around?"

"No idea."

"Hmm, well I want to discuss some of the prospects I've found tonight with him." Rhaegar checked his watch, which Dany smiled fondly at; it was a child's watch with a cartoon dragon on it, he'd had it for his entire life. Said it was a constant he liked to keep him grounded in reality. "Anyways, I'll find him before the night is done. Now, yes, these two are certainly something when they go at it in the ring or on the mat." He laughed, high and floating. "I don't fancy myself a fighter at all. Tried some of that in law school for stress, but Daenerys has the fire for it."

Jon laughed. "Aye, she's had my number a time or two. Today in particular."

"That's...wow," Ned said, uncomfortably tugging his collar.

Dany smirked again. "It's good stress relief. I started on a bag, then Jon and I got into a ring and well, first time out with another human and I broke his nose." She laughed, her entire body tingling all over, remembering that night fondly. "Now he lets Davos train me, but we still go at it from time to time. I got him pretty good tonight."

Cat looked Jon up and down. "I don't see any bruises or broken bones."

At the risk of offending Jon, Dany was going to just let it go, but she also knew Jon was not one to be easily offended. He also knew full well that nothing said in front of his stepmother/step-aunt mattered; she was always going to detest him or find fault. Dany figured it the best time as any to get them an out. She wasn't feeling well, the champagne roiling in her belly, and she was also exhausted at the same time. "Well it's not in any place visible." She waggled her brows, pulling Jon slightly, as Rhaegar began to chuckle behind his glass. She waved at them both. "Now if you excuse me, I should go test the equipment I broke earlier, make sure we can still provide you both with some nieces or nephews."

It took a moment, until Ned's face flushed, and Cat choked on the garnish from her drink, Rhaegar laughing uproariously. Jon waved. "Later guys." He escaped with her, no longer even limping, his lips pulled wide over his teeth in a grin. "Damn Dany."

"Now you see why no one likes going against me in court."

"You have no shame."

"I am a dragon." She pulled his hand, turning and walking backwards from the Keep, grinning slyly. "Now, let's get home and actually see if we can't test that equipment."

They got home, but by the time they'd shed their dress clothing, her face wiped clean of makeup, she was so tired and nauseous, she could barely stand up straight. It also seemed that upon finally laying down, the ache from her kick earlier had gotten to him, and Jon had an icepack settled between his legs instead of her. He groaned; arm draped over his eyes. "What would they say about the judicial power couple now?"

She mumbled nonsensically, her arms around her belly. "I don't feel good," she moaned.

his fingers rubbed comfortingly between her shoulder blades. She had on one of his t-shirts from the gym, a soft worn black one with his white-wolf symbol on it. It made her feel better, surrounded by his scent, but she was still feeling rather sick. "Maybe you overdid it today love. We should skip tomorrow."

Instead of going to throw up, which she very much wanted to do, she rolled towards him and cuddled into his chest, kissing his collarbone, peeking from the ripped neck on his t-shirt. Ghost hopped onto the bed, satisfied they weren't going to kick him out, and began to clean his tail like a cat, while her three cats meandered around, searching for their nesting places for the night.

_one big happy family_ , she sighed, feeling better with him around her.

Her eyes sprang open. _Family._

Oh.

_Ohhhh...._

Realization began to dawn on her. The fatigue, the anger, the crankiness, the mood swings....the nausea....She glanced up at Jon; he was asleep, mouth ajar, a light snore catching every so often in the back of his throat. She swallowed hard, settling deeper into him, piecing it together.

Well, she would need to verify, but a plan was beginning to form. She could make things up to him and also, well, see if there was something else worth sharing too.

* * *

There were days where Jon seriously questioned his career decisions. There were other days where he was grateful, he'd taken the guidance and mentorship from his teacher at the Wall and his warden, oddly enough, and followed in their footsteps to help kids like him. Or not exactly like him. He still sent letters to Jeor Mormont proclaiming: "WHY DID YOU LET ME DO THIS" when he'd had an exceptionally rough go of it. Mormont always replied back: "Because you are good at it."

And today was one of those days he had to remember those letters. He had to sentence three kids— babies, basically— to the Wall for violating the numerous chances he'd offered them through education and training. He had another kid try to jump over the table and rush him. He was exhausted. He also had to field several calls from his ex-girlfriend, who wanted to rant at him about his wife, who apparently was "making my life a bloody living hell." Jon had calmly told Satin to tell Ygritte that "you are making my life a bloody living hell" the next time she called.

He was grateful Dany had subdued somewhat on working with his ex. Ygritte was good at her job, she just went about it in ways that were not always above board, which was part of why he'd broken up with her. He admitted his fault in not telling Dany initially when Ygritte had called him, but her reaction the other day had been out of character. He winced in memory of her foot coming right up and striking where it had.

At the time, his balls had shriveled up and disappeared up into his stomach, vowing never to descend again until the threat had passed. His cock itself, he was terrified had just snapped in half like a pretzel stick, but thankfully had relaxed later. He wasn’t sure if there was any significant damage—he’d been hit there a few times during practice sessions, but never with the force from his tiny little dragon wife. Good things come in small packages, she always joked, but he suspected she might need to amend that statement when she was furious at something.

Parking his car in his space behind her racecar, he sighed, grabbing his messenger bag and slinging it over his chest, climbing out. He walked around to the side of his Land Rover, taking out the dinner he'd decided to surprise her with, since she'd been working so much. She'd been so tired lately and couldn't shake a weird bug that always seemed to hit her in the evening. The night of the gala, she'd been absolutely miserable.

That was a week ago. They'd barely stopped, unable to even check his "equipment." He tossed his keys in his hand, smiling briefly. Perhaps tonight, he thought, hoping that his dinner offering and the idea that tomorrow was Saturday— they could stay in bed all day, put work behind them just for a few hours— would break the abnormal spell in their more amorous activities.

They'd been together for a year, already married, living together, and had only gone a week at most during that time without each other. Tonight, he decided, stepping into the house, Ghost running over to him, holding one of his treasured ratty stuffed animals in his mouth to play. "Hey boy, not now," he said, ruffling his ears. He took the toy, tossing it into the living room, Ghost pouncing.

Food on the counter, the cats leaped up to inspect. "Hey, knock it off," he ordered, Drogon pawing at the bag of YiTish food. Drogon hissed, his brothers Rhaegal and Viserion gazing apologetically from atop the fridge. Jon scowled at him, pointing a finger. "No." The massive cat, who only liked Dany, hissed again, swatted his paw, and jumped down, prancing off.

He groaned, yanking his tie off, tossing it onto the couch with his suit jacket. "Dany!" He wondered where she was. He cringed, hoping she wasn't asleep. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, noting the door to the study happened to be closed. He frowned; that was odd. He walked towards it, pulling his shirt free of his pants, starting to unbutton it. "I got YiTish food, thought we could just veg out. I'm sorry I'm late, had a couple emergency motions to decide and a judgment to dictate, then Satin had a moment when he found your panties in the couch and I had to unscrew him from the ceiling...."

Nudging the study door open, he figured maybe Ghost had done something and then closed the door; he'd done that before. He expected maybe to see books or papers scattered on the floor, but when he pushed it open completely, he was greeted with a sight that he didn't know he ever wanted to see.

But by the old gods and new, he wanted it.

Jaw unhinging, he gaped, stupidly at the sight greeting him.

The lights on the desk were on low, the glow through the gray lampshades shimmering like candlelight against his wife's cascading silver hair, which she had over her bare shoulder, her skin pearly like the moon. She was reclining in the leather desk chair, her legs up and crossed at the ankles on the edge of the desk. The constant kickboxing and sparring had developed her already strong, tiny frame into a sleek, muscular, compact little body and he could see them rippling with her movement, turning slightly in the chair.

A coy smile on her lips, she fondled her fingers over a gavel— he'd wondered where the one he liked to keep on his desk happened to go— her thumb flicking across the top and her other hand slowly moving up and down the handle— mimicking a movement he liked on something else. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and his heart stuck somewhere in his chest. He gasped out a breath, because it wasn't just the gavel she had, or her sly look, or even the gleam from her freshly painted red toenails.

Oh no, it was the fact that one of his black judge robes was falling off her other shoulder, the billowing sleeves slipping down her arms, and draped in such a manner to tease that there was _nothing_ between her and the heavy black silks. "Good evening Your Honor," she cooed, gesturing the gavel towards him. She arched a brow. Her violet eyes were indigo in the darkness. "It's about time you showed up. You're late for court."

"Oh?" he rasped.

"Hmm, it seems that you're in contempt."

She dropped her feet, turning the chair around so she was directly facing him, her hands going to the top of the desk. The robes parted at her chest giving him a teasing glimpse of the curves of each of her full, round, perfect breasts. The heavy black robe contrasted to her creamy white skin gave her an otherworldly appearance, a goddess emerging from the underworld to bring him back with her, following her into danger and darkness. He would go willingly, no regrets. He licked his lips, eyeing the way the fabric fell further at her slight movements, barely covering her rosy, pebbled nipples.

His eyes went black, when it finally gave away, and he got his sight, mouth watering in anticipation of getting his mouth around those glorious peaks, nipping and teasing her into submission. _Mine_ , he thought possessively, stepping towards her, gasping out the first words he could think of saying. “Contempt of what?” He would play along; he had never, ever thought of roleplay with his judge robes, but _fuck_ , this was doing things.

Moving his fingers to his fly, he made to unbuckle his belt, but she smacked the gavel down onto the mahogany desk, snapping. “No!” He gulped, hands falling aside. She smiled again, fondling the gavel, her thumb running in circles over the tip, his cock straining against his briefs, wanting that same touch. She stood, walking around the desk, the robes now falling completely from her shoulders, elbows catching them before they tumbled entirely to the floor.

There was nothing else underneath, her lovely cunt bare for him; his mouth fell open when she hopped onto the desk, spreading her legs, and running the gavel down over her breasts, skimming across her belly, and paused at the top of her cunt, where he could see petal-pink folds already separating, slick already with her desire. A strangled little sound came from his constricting throat. “Dany,” he begged. He was not above begging. Let them all see Judge Jon Snow, the White Wolf of the Courthouse now. He wanted to be on his knees in front of her. “Please.”

She cocked her head; her silver curls fell in a waterfall over her shoulder. “What should I sentence you to, Jon Snow? For you have been very bad, being in contempt of my court.”

“Whatever you want.”

The gavel flew to the side and she crooked her finger, whispering. “Come here.”

Didn’t need to tell him twice.

He was in front of her in seconds, between her thighs, which wrapped around his hips, ankles locking, her fingers immediately fighting with his belt and zipper, and his hands plunging into her hair, taking fistfuls of the silk-spun silver, moaning as he got his first taste of her since their hurried little pecks on the lips goodbye that morning.

Kissing Daenerys was one way he wouldn’t mind going, should the Old Gods decide his time was up. He faded into oblivion when he was in her arms, her mouth upon his, firm lips and her dainty tongue, grappling for his, their teeth clashing now in attempt to overcome the other. He drank from her, moaning and groaning at the sound of her humming, that little sound in the back of her throat that was a trill, a call for him. The first time he heard it, he almost came right then and there, when they stumbled into his house after that tension filled drive from the ER to the house.

The broken nose being what it was, he wasn’t going to let it stop him then and he wouldn’t let anything stop him now, his hands falling to her face, touching and stroking, pulling her tighter to him. Her bare breasts pressed to his chest, now free from his shirt—she was so fast, he thought briefly—the garment stuck on his shoulders. He let go of her long enough to shake it loose and she growled, tearing at his pants.

“Get these off,” she grunted. “Why are you even wearing them?”

“Because otherwise I’d get arrested.”

“Fuck I’d defend you.” She let go of the pants as he hurriedly pushed them down, her small little hands now skimming down his chest, fire in their wake. He kissed from her lips, hot, open-mouth sucking on her neck, down her pulse, and across her collarbone, desperate to get his lips around her nipple, or even farther south if she let him.

Which she didn’t, her fingers now farther along than his, his left hand palming her breast, the other pushing her thigh up, trying to dip into her to slide along the heat he could feel emanating from her. HE pushed her back onto the desk, his lips finally closing around one pearled nipple, and she cried out, surprised. He grinned around it, nipping lightly at the soft skin. “Lie back,” he ordered, gasping.

She smirked, shaking her head, and then it was her turn. “No Your Honor.”

His cock jumped into her palm, her fist closing around him, warm and soft, and his eyelids fluttered shut, his groan slipping free. He faltered, falling forwards, caging her between his body and the desk. Her thigh was still in his hand and he pushed it farther up, her knee hooking around his forearm. “No time,” he managed to get out, feeling the heat and fire surging within him. It had been too long and he _needed_ her.

There was probably a joke somewhere in there about “all rise” and all that but fuck he could barely think beyond burying himself into her wet heat, his left hand breaking free of her breast and falling between them, wedging down to tangle with her fingers, which were still pushing at his briefs. He let her push them down over his arse, her nails digging into the muscle. He shimmied his legs, shaking them off and kicked them free, leaving them both naked as their namedays.

Save the judge robe she still wore at her elbows.

Jon pulled back long enough to get a look at her, lying spread on the desk, her skin glowing, her chest abraded a rosy-pink from his beard, and her breasts lifting with each one of her deep breaths, the tips tight and wet from his mouth. He licked his lips, scanning over the rest of her body, her heels perched precariously on the edge of the desk, perfect cunt open for his perusal, slick and waiting. _Fucking hells this woman._ She arched one her brows and grinned, her lips kiss-stung, swollen. “What will you do with me, Your Honor?”

_Fuck._

He lunged for her, a wolf in his element, and grabbed hold of her hips, fingertips digging under her thighs, snapping them around his waist. He carried her easily around the desk, pressing her back down on it and grabbed hold of her mouth with his, groaning into her. The silky softness of the judge robe brushed against his heated skin, the sensations overwhelming, her hands spreading over his back, running up and down his straining muscles. It was killing him, holding back, wanting to drive into her immediately, but keeping a very limited control of his desire until she was set on the desk again.

Hooking her knees under his elbows, he pressed her down and confirmed with her, meeting her pupil-blown gaze. “Now?” he whispered.

She nodded. “Now.” Hand wrapping around his cock, she squeezed lightly, raking her nails across his stones. He choked, holding back, his throat so tight he barely got any breath in before she pulled him over her, dragging the tip of his cock along her slit, gathering wetness and circling it around her clit. He let go of one of her legs, unable to contain himself, and thumbed it, the tight bundle of nerves her most sensitive spot, knowing exactly the pressure and direction she wanted—well, needed really.

“Yes,” she repeated, babbling in Valyrian now, her nails digging into his arse, pulling him against her. “Jon now, gods, now.”

He took a deep breath, positioned, and in a sharp exhale, slammed into her, her head falling back, a loud, strangled cry music to his ears, his name a curse and a prayer on her lips, begging him to move, to fuck her, forgetting their little games, their hearts and bodies desperate for the other. It was always like this, every single time, whether they were needy and frantic, barely getting clothes off before they were fucking in the hallway or the times when they’d just spend hours with each other, twisted together, moving slow, luxurious, and savoring every sigh and whisper.

The first drive into her was coming home, the second was desperate, and before he knew it, they were furiously fucking, hips slamming together, her grip on him a vice, liquid fire and heat smothering him. He remembered idly the first time they’d done this, fumbling on his bed, laughing and avoiding his broken nose. He had told the doctor he didn’t want any painkillers just yet—he’d been gambling on her waiting for him—the sight of her enough to whisk free any pain he might have been feeling in that moment.

This woman was _everything_ to him, he thought, her body snaked around his, encouraging him, hips lifting, sliding. He pushed her thigh up higher, able to push deeper, and he was now in his own language, babbling her name, prayers to the Old Gods, nonsensical sounds and grunts and groans as she took him over the edge.

“Let go,” she whispered, sensing he was close. She was almost there; he pushed his hand between them circling her center, as she tightened and seized, neck arching. He latched his mouth around one of her nipples again, free hand releasing her thigh to tweak the other. She cried out, body tensing, and then she was going over, the intensity of it dragging him with her.

Her muscles rippling around him, he felt it hit, the sharp fire down his spine, until it exploded inside of him, and he was somewhere else entirely, flying with her. It was never-ending, her legs around his waist, pressing him tighter to her. She dragged her fingers along his spine, mumbling his name into his neck, and he ground into her again, a few more times, wondering if he had finished, emptying everything he had inside of her.

When he came back to his body, he blinked out stars, breathing deeply, sweat-slicked. “Dany,” he mumbled, his knees quaking. He pulled her over him, falling backwards, grateful the chair was there. She was mumbling nonsensically, curling into him, her body draped over top him. She pushed her face into his shoulder, arms around him, hands trapped between his back and the chair.

Time stood still a moment. He continued to blink away stars, tiny bright lights flickering in the corners of his eyes, regaining sanity, strength, and grasp on reality. He leaned back in the chair, exhausted, and his skin slicked in sweat. It would be uncomfortable when he eventually got off the leather, but worth it, for what he'd just gone through.

He laughed, first words coming to him, hoarse. "Fuck, what did I do to deserve that?"

"Oh you know," Dany laughed, just as tired, if not more so. She raked her ratty hair back with her fingers, leaning forwards and lightly brushing her mouth over his. She softened, melting into him, her knees drawing up and her arm going around his neck. He wrapped the judge robes around her to give them some semblance of further warmth, their skin starting to pebble from the chill. She tapped her fingertip to his swollen lower lip. She smiled gently. "I know it's been a stressful last week and I...well I've not been myself."

He shook his head, not wanting to hear it. "Dany..."

"No listen, please." She sighed. "I really haven't felt myself. The boxing and stuff helps with the stress, but I've just been...off. Not just that I still feel terribly for kicking your balls...which it seems everything worked perfectly well." He smiled sheepishly as she giggled. She nuzzled his nose, whispering. "But just...everything. Anyways, I wanted to do something special."

"Well that was certainly special."

"Hmm."

To his surprise, she untangled herself off his lap, wrapping herself up in the judge robes. They swallowed her whole, dragging on the floor like a train when she crossed the office to one of the tables by the door, picking up a small white box with a red ribbon on it. He hadn't noticed it. He frowned; it wasn't an anniversary or birthday. She returned and sat back in his lap again, handing him the box.

He glance dup, curious. "What's this?"

"Open it." She tugged her bottom lip under her top teeth, the only tell that she was nervous.

Jon frowned; he kept his arms around her and pulled on the ribbon, fumbling with the top of the box. He wondered what it could be. Gods knew she'd already done more than enough for him that night, now he was getting another gift? He'd joked that she had to make up their sparring fail with him, but this was more than he'd ever expected. He pushed by white tissue paper and studied the object within the folds. "Huh."

He lifted them out, dangling a set of knitted...socks? Shoes? He wasn't sure. They were red and had white string tying them together and very soft and kind of looked like.... "Boxing gloves?" he blurted.

"Yes."

They were awfully small. He laughed. "Dany, I don't think these could fit my big toe, it's like boxing gloves for a...." he trailed off, gaping. _Oh gods._ He whipped his head up, staring at her. She had a nervous smile, now chewing at her thumbnail, waiting. He looked at them again. Croaking, he choked out: "Baby."

_Boxing gloves for a baby._

He laughed, fingers trembling, causing the gloves to sway in his hands. "Fuck, Dany are you...."

"Yes," she burst out, laughing and wrapping her arms around his neck, both of them swaying side to side in the chair. He clutched her, squeezing her close, her face buried into his neck. "I'm pregnant." She pulled away and pushed aside the robe so they could inspect her flat belly. He covered it, not noticing that yes, there was a little bit of a gain there. He could have bene imagining it, but he didn't care. Somewhere underneath their joined hands, they had a _baby_.

She continued to sniffle, wiping at her eyes. "I wondered why I was so sick after the gala, maybe too much champagne and all the activity that day and...well...I felt so upset about everything and wasn't sure why and now I know." She giggled. "And now I guess I have a reason when I'm so angry at you to kick your arse."

He snorted, before giggling like a girl, high-pitched, and unable to contain himself, floating off on clouds at the news. It hadn’t quite sunk in just yet. "A baby," he sighed. He lifted the knitted gloves up, grinning. "Well this is appropriate for our child."

"The doctor said I can still kickbox, just no hand-to-hand, for now."

"Um, you are doing no such thing."

Her brows flew to her hairline. He blinked, realizing he'd said something wrong. _Uh-oh._ "OH? You're going to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

"No."

"Sounds like you did."

He stuttered. "Um, no...."

Her smile flew back to her lips, grinning wide. "I'm just teasing." Then she growled, pulling his face up to hers, nails digging into the base of his scalp, tugging his curls. "Or am I?"

"hmm....you are something Dany." He was forever grateful to whatever had happened to her that day that had her walking into his gym. The angry, feisty silver-haired little queen, who had caught his eye when he'd been sparring with Satin. Satin had gotten a good left hook in when he'd been distracted, but it was worth it. He had commented on her form as he left, pretty sure she was going to be something else, and she certainly had been. Arya gave him shit about his 'crush' for days, wondering why he wouldn't say anything.

He'd bullied Davos into letting him be the one to go against her when she first got into the ring for hand-to-hand. Then he was in the ER with a broken nose. _Worth it_ , he thought, pulling her face to his for another kiss. He pulled away, whispering. "What prompted you to come into the gym that day?"

Her eyebrow arched again, questioning. He shrugged. "The day you came in, when you first wanted to start boxing. What was it?"

"Oh, well, Missandei suggested it. She'd been going there because of Grey and I just..." She trailed off, frowning. "I'm not sure. Just a lot of things. Tyrion made me angry and then she brought me there."

"Well I owe her. And Grey. And fuck, maybe even Tyrion."

Dany giggled, climbing off his lap, holding his hands as he cringed, pulling free of the leather seat with a slight yelp. She reached around, rubbing his bare arse with her palms, walking backwards to the door. "Oh, poor thing, want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"Aye," he growled, sweeping her off her feet. He was still holding the baby boxing gloves, which she snatched, holding close to her heart. He carried her up the stairs, depositing her on their bed and crawling up over her, pinning her into the pillows with a long kiss. After a few moments, he rolled to his side and she rolled with him, both of them fingering the little gloves, the soft red yarn soothing.

She gazed up at him. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied. He covered her belly with his palm again, still grinning. "Whatever will you do when you can't blow your stress out on the punching bag?"

She laughed, slinging her leg over his hip and setting the gloves on the nightstand, shedding the robe. He made a note to _never_ wear that robe in court. "Oh I can think of a few things."

**fin.**


End file.
